A Shoulder to Cry On
by Ruthless Bunny
Summary: Now it's Cameron's turn, what are House's Aunt and Uncle like? Ch. 27, Member of the Family
1. A Shoulder to Cry On

A Shoulder to Cry On

Eric Foreman contemplated another cup of coffee. On one hand, he was bone-tired after staying up all night with a case. House too had stayed all night, but he sequestered himself in his office with a copy of Entertainment Weekly.

Foreman sighed and opted for tea and honey. The patient was out of danger, but had months of rehab ahead of him. He reached for one of the muffins stacked on a paper plate by the coffee warmer when he heard a muffled sniffle from the other side of the lounge.

He hadn't noticed Cameron in the corner, probably because it looked like she was trying to get inside her locker. He put his breakfast down and walked over to that side of the room. "You okay?" Knowing that she wasn't, but it seemed stupid to pretend that his co-worker wasn't sobbing into her lab coat.

He suspected that it had to do with House. Allison Cameron was talented, beautiful and smart, but she was also had an obvious crush on House. In Foreman's opinion only a masochist would invite that kind of misery into her life, but the heart wants what it wants and there was no accounting for taste.

"You know, if you want to talk about it, I'll listen." He sat down on one of the benches and sipped his tea.

She emerged from her locker looking somewhat soggy. She dabbed at her face with a tissue.

Foreman, brother to two sisters, could tell that this was serious man-trouble. "Go splash some water on your face."

Cameron went to the kitchenette and ran the tap. Soon she returned, drying her face on a rough paper towel.

"That's better; now tell Uncle Eric all about it." He patted the seat next to him on the bench.

"I don't know why I came back. It's all such a hideous mess and I f-f-feel ridiculous." She took a deep breath to calm herself and continued. "House insisted that I come back, and I thought that it was more than just my work. I hoped that it was. I made him take me on a date, and it was awful. He was so cold and mean." She stopped, again to regain her composure.

"Uh-huh," he urged her on.

"I just figured that he was incapable of being in love; or having affection for someone, or pretty much even compassion and I just chalked it up to the fact that some people are like that. I sort of told myself that if he could like anyone, that it would be me, and that made it okay." She again dabbed her eyes.

"So what changed?" Foreman asked kindly, inwardly thinking that Cameron must have led an incredibly sheltered life.

"I saw him with Stacy and you can just tell that…he's still in love with her." She had stopped hiccoughing and seemed to have calmed down. "So there's no room for me, and I guess there never will be."

"And now she's coming back here to work. That should be fun." He wished he hadn't mentioned that, because he realized from the shock on her face that she didn't know.

"Oh my God. Are you serious?" She sat up, like a person who has just come to the conclusion that they had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"Unfortunately, yes. As far as I'm concerned, it's just one more reason for House to be a complete dick to me. He's a tortured soul alright, and he's bringing the rest of us along for the ride. But you need to dry your eyes and get a plan." He offered her a clean tissue from a box that a pharmaceutical rep had left behind.

"A plan? What is this, high school?" She seemed slightly cheered.

"No. Not a plan to get you together with House. I like you too much for that. I'm talking about a plan to help you get over House." He took out a pad and a pen and began doodling down ideas. He smiled at the first one.

"What? What are you writing there?" Her curiosity was aroused by his intense scribbling.

He laughed, "Oh, this is too good. Okay, so first off, the three of us are going out for a big night on the town. Drinks, dinner, debauchery. I'll handle the first two; we'll leave it to Chase to handle the last."

"You want all three of us to go somewhere where Chase has played S and M games?"

"Absolutely. First of all, I'm curious as hell to know what kind of stuff goes on there. Secondly it will eat House alive for him to know that we're all out having that kind of an evening." He outlined the most important aspect of the plan. "The idea is that you ignore House as a person. To you, he's your boss, your mentor, your teacher. You act kind of cold and aloof. With us; we're the brothers you never had. Instead of standing apart trying to curry favor and one-up each other, we're going to stick together." He smiled thinking about turning the tables on House.

"So how are you going to bring Chase on board with that? You know how he is." Cameron had never had a high opinion of Chase.

"True, but he's young and rich. He's never had to think of anyone but himself. I think he understands that no man is an island. He needs us, and we need him. I'll speak to him, but you've got to stop looking at him like something you'd scrape off of your shoe."

"Okay, we'll all start with clean slates. This is fun." She managed a smile.

Eric rolled his eyes, "I'm not helping you paint your toe nails."

She punched him playfully on the shoulder, "I know."

"And if I can offer some advice?" He continued.

"Yes, please. Clearly what I'm doing is not…good."

"Guys in general and House in particular, do not like talking about feelings. Ever. Now, we'd have to be idiots not to see that there's something going on, but you're making it too easy for him. You're too available, you're too accommodating, you're too demanding. I think you should have taken that other job. Teach his cranky ass a lesson. If I can ask, why did you come back?"

She sighed, "I could kick myself. He asked me to. I know that deep down, that he likes me too, and I thought that if I could just be here, then one day he'd realize that he was missing out on a damn good thing. I don't think I can say no to him."

"You would get eaten alive in Compton, you know that? No girls I know would be vulnerable like that. He'll never respect you as a woman if you do everything that he says. Assert your independence. Oh, and don't make any big changes in your appearance, that's a dead give-away that you are trying to get his attention. What you need are some boyfriends. We'll work on that." He jotted that down on the list.

"Boyfriends? Plural?" She was scandalized.

"Plural. You are a beautiful young woman, you can have your pick of men. Try different ones out. Older, younger, handsome, rich. You never know, you might find one you like, someone who can appreciate you." He smiled, "we are _so_ going to screw with his head."

"So is the idea to keep busy with other things in the hopes that I'll be able to stop feeling so…" she was at a loss for a word.

"Look all this drama is just a way to pass time. Time will pass no matter how you feel. I once read somewhere that when you look back on events in your life, you'll remember what you did, not what you felt. So if all you plan to do is sit around in your apartment playing Dido and reading magazines, what kind of memory is that? Wouldn't you rather have some other memories?"

She visibly cheered up. "You know, I would. When I look back on the past ten years of my life, frankly, I'm ashamed. I know that tomorrow is not promised and yet I keep living for the future. Screw that. I'm done with that. This is today, and I deserve to be happy. Okay, drinks, dinner and debauchery. What do I wear to debauchery?"

Eric thought about it, "Ask Chase, I'm sure he's got an idea or two."

"That's what I'm afraid of. But you know what, I'm tired of being afraid. I'm going to go find him right now." She turned towards him when she got to the door, "Thanks."

He waved at her, "no problem. I'm always here for you." As the door shut behind her he consulted the list again, "I wonder where she's going to put the tattoo."


	2. Born to be Wild

Born to be Wild

Foreman checked his watch. It was well past five on a Friday and they didn't have a case. He had been catching up on his dictation and puttering around. House was playing with a paddle-ball. _Twacka-twacka-twacka_. "Dammit!"

Chase sat across from him at the table; he was on the CDC website researching…something. They were in a power struggle. The team was waiting for House to pack up and go home so that they could leave, but he was obstinately sitting there playing with his toy.

Cameron took out her Blackberry and typed something in. She gave Chase a meaningful look. In about five minutes Wilson poked his head in, "Greg?"

House gave the ball a few more smacks, "yes?"

"Want to grab a cold one before going home?"

House looked at his team. Each apparently working on something different, but in the past couple of weeks they had managed to bond. He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong, but he knew that something was.

The three heads all turned to House to see how he's respond. "Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?"

Wilson shook his head, "pardon me?"

"You'd like me to just get up and leave. Did you know that they were planning something? I don't know what it is, which means that it's something good." He focused his eyes on Cameron, who stared right back with the best blank look that she could muster. She shifted uncomfortably; her new tattoo still hurt and she tried to keep the weight off of it.

"Don't think I didn't notice that maneuver. I'll find out about that too. Foreman, I see that smile." House sounded more than a little crazy.

Foreman stood up, "well, it's time for me to go anyway. I really enjoyed your paranoid rant. I guess we'll see more of that on Monday then?"

House sighed, "Fine, I'll leave." He gave them all a suspicious look.

As he walked out with Wilson he heard peals of laughter from their conference room and it went right through him.

Cameron stood up, "My ass is killing me. That is the LAST time I let you talk me into tequila poppers." She downed a couple of aspirins with the last of her bottled water.

Chase laughed, "Need me to change the bandage for you?"

"No you little perv, you're not coming anywhere near me. You've done enough." She still blamed him for the koala on her right butt cheek.

"It's cute. Remember Eric? She thought it was cute." He advanced towards her, as though he were going to look again.

Foreman laughed, remembering that Chase just wanted to see Cameron's ass and would have said anything to get her to agree to a tattoo on it. "Cute. Okay, so we're meeting at Cameron's, then we're taking a cab to the train station. We've got to boogie if we're making the 7:28."

Chase smiled, "Last one there buys the first round."

They collected their gear and headed out.

On the Metroliner they plotted their weekend. Foreman ran over their itinerary "Okay, so we've got tickets for the show tomorrow night. Tonight is our usual Friday night drink-fest. We're meeting my buddies at the Chevy's in Times Square. We'll check in at the hotel first then book over there. Tomorrow, we'll play it by ear. We'll probably not want to leave the hotel until later in the day. Maybe we'll head over to Canal Street or something."

"So what do you think was up with House?" Cameron had waited as long as she could before she brought him up.

Chase groaned. "We've got this amazing weekend planned and you're worried about House?"

Cameron blushed, "not worried, curious. You have to admit, he was acting pretty psycho. If Wilson hadn't answered my page I don't know what we would have done. He was going to wait us out."

"Who cares? So he's on to us. Good, that's part of the plan. It's not a plan if he doesn't notice. Look, aside from House, we're having fun right?"

Cameron seemed unsure, "Well, yes, but…"

"But nothing, we're having fun. We're young and single. It's natural for us to get together with each other. Frankly, I like you guys."

"But you like jacking with House too." Chase added.

"That's just a bonus. This might have started out as a way to bug House, but now you're my friends and we are out on the town for the weekend. So Cameron, what does your sister have lined up for us this weekend?"

"Well, at the worst, we'll have a deluxe room with a view of the park. At the best, we'll get a suite. We'll know when we get there." She shouldered her bag; early on the rule with them was, 'you pack it, you schlep it.' It was actually Cameron's sister-in-law who worked at the hotel. She got them the employee discount and they were upgraded as much as they could be, depending upon room availability. The last time the three of them shared a king sized bed.

The cab ride was short and when they checked in at The Ritz, they found that they were in one of the suites on the concierge level. "Great! Free breakfast!" Cameron commented as she threw her bag on the bed. "Dibs on an outer edge, I don't like being sandwiched between you guys."

"I'll take the sofa in the other room," Foreman said, "you thrash in your sleep," he pointed at Cameron, and you," he pointed at Chase, "your breath stinks."

Chase laughed, "Well yeah, after beer, tequila and Mexican food anyone's breath would stink. Besides, you're no party, yourself."

"Don't go there," Foreman warned, "at least I don't light mine."

"Boys! Enough. Do I have time to shower?" Cameron held her make-up bag in her hand.

Foreman consulted his watch, "we're meeting them at ten, so be fast. Besides, I'm starving."

"Yeah, wanna split a Toblerone?" Chase was inventorying the mini-bar.

"Hell, no. At four-fifty a pop? Shit, you should have grabbed a Hershey bar at the station when you had the chance." He pulled one out of his duffel and offered it to Chase.

"Thanks." Chase took half and handed it back, "how does she go without eating like that?"

"I think she forgets." He smiled at a long-forgotten joke, "it takes a special kind of stupid to forget to eat."

Chase nodded his agreement. "Yeah."

Cameron emerged from the bathroom in a light cotton dress, a very different look from what she usually wore at the hospital. She sat down on the bed and rubbed lotion into her legs. Foreman dipped into the bathroom while Chase admired the view.

"I know what you're doing." Cameron said while she was doing her feet.

"So?" Chase said somewhat defensively.

"Nothing. I just know." Cameron flipped her hair over and gave it a good brush while she was upside down. Then she sprayed it while Chase pretended that the fumes were choking him. When she stood up her hair was full and shiny. She walked over to the mirror to put on some make-up.

Chase took the opportunity to change. He was an exhibitionist and tried to embarrass Cameron by parading around in as little as possible. He had stripped down to his skimpy underpants and was in the process of deciding what to wear. Cameron and Foreman had recently had a wardrobe intervention with him, so instead of his usual, terrible outfits, he actually had something decent to pick from. "So which one?" He held up two shirts.

Cameron stopped mascaraing her lashes and glanced over, "the pink one is nice. Wear that with jeans."

He tried to get away with being nearly naked for a few minutes longer, but Foreman emerged and groaned with displeasure, "Aw man, nobody wants to see that! Damn." He averted his eyes as Chase walked past him. "How do you stand him?"

Cameron shrugged, "I think of him as my little brother, stupid, but loveable. You look nice."

Foreman smiled, "you too."

Cameron smiled, "thanks!"

Soon they were off to Chevy's. When they arrived they met Foreman's friends in the bar. They were in town for a fraternity convention so they were already in a party mood. There were quart sized margaritas lined up on the bar, in every color of the rainbow. Cameron grabbed the red one, Chase got the gold and Foreman ordered a beer.

Foreman made sure that everyone had something to eat, because he could deal with hangovers, but he drew the line at alcohol poisoning. "The fellas heard about this club, it's around midnight now, so it should be warming up. You up for it?" He asked Chase who was trying to talk to a woman buying single cigarettes.

"Yeah, this place is dead." Chase struck out so he was anxious to move on to greener pastures. Foreman turned to Cameron who was talking animatedly with his buddy Andre, a city planner in southern California suburb. He assumed that she was in.

The line at the club was daunting, but it turned out that Chase knew the guy on the door. No one wanted to know exactly how. The music throbbed and Foreman and Cameron danced with each other to break the ice. Soon everyone was dancing and making up new moves.

"Check it out, it's 'The Stewardess'," Cameron shouted as she demonstrated a move with her hands, as though directing people's attention to the emergency exits.

Chase laughed and pantomimed putting on an oxygen mask, "even though the oxygen is flowing the bag will not inflate!" He howled with laughter.

Cameron laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever seen, yet again, the victim of too much tequila.

After her fourth drink she found herself dancing on one of the giant speakers that ringed the club. She drew a small crowd who clapped and offered encouragement as she danced. "I feel like a movie star!" She did a bit of 'The Batussi' just to show off, oblivious to the fact that everyone could see her underwear.

At around three they were ushered out. Foreman said good-bye to his fraternity buddies as they walked up to the corner to get a cab. "Okay, we must have breakfast before we get back to the hotel. You need at least ten pancakes to soak up that tequila."

Cameron allowed Chase to steady her, "I was drinking tequila? I thought I told you that I wasn't going to do that any more."

Chase, always one to press his luck, "We could get another tattoo. A kangaroo maybe?"

Cameron fixed him with a stare, "Knock yourself out."

"You're just saying that because you want to see my bum." Chase proclaimed, a bit too loudly.

"I've seen your bum, hell, half of Manhattan's seen your bum. It's not all that."

Foreman laughed, "Come on, there's a diner up there. Some coffee, some eggs, then off to beddy-bye."

"Oh, but we get breakfast tomorrow morning. From six to ten." Cameron reminded him.

"I don't know about you, but I'm sleeping till at least noon." He held the glass door open for them as they stumbled in.

Chase stared at his omelet. "I'd say that this thing has at least a dozen eggs in it. You Americans always have to have such enormous portions. No wonder everyone is so fat." He poured ketchup on it and dug in. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Cameron nibbled at her short-stack, having scrapped the butter off onto the side of the plate. "Nice and spongy."

Foreman handed her the syrup pitcher, "I think you might want to get them a bit wet."

She took it from him and added a few more drops, "Not too sweet."

Foreman dipped his toast into his egg yolk, "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to put on a couple of pounds. Fill out that koala a bit."

"I like myself the way I am, thankyouverymuch." She pushed her plate away having eaten exactly one pancake.

"Self-esteem is good. I'm just saying." He forked some hash browns. "Whoa, Chase, are you okay?"

Chase's head had started to bob. "I'm just really, really tired."

"Okay, time to head on back to the hacienda." He grabbed the check and hailed a cab.

The bed was turned down when they got back to the room. Cameron slipped out of her dress and threw a T-shirt on to turn in. Chase had fallen asleep with his clothes on, so Foreman just pulled his shoes off and left him the way he was on top of the covers. "You can get him out of the rest of his gear if you want, I personally don't want to see that banana hammock again."

"I'm used to it, it doesn't bother or impress me. Good night Eric. Are you sure you're going to be okay out there?"

"Better than you are in here. He had those jalapenos again." He turned off the light and closed the door.

Cameron adjusted everything and was about to fall asleep when she realized that Forman was right, "That smell could knock a buzzard off a shit wagon."


	3. The Return of SweetMeat

The Return of Sweet-Meat

It was so big that it looked like a floral arrangement had grown legs and was walking itself down the hall. Occasionally eyes would poke through the bird-of-paradise at the top, trying to read the signs. It stopped when it got to Diagnostic Medicine. A Converse-shod foot nudged the door open and put the basket down on the table.

Cameron laughed as she recognized the face, "Declan! What are you doing here?" She flung herself at him and gave him a big kiss on the mouth, in front of House, God and everybody.

"Dunno actually, I could say I was in the neighborhood, but that'd be a lie, I got lost twice driving here. I wanted to bring you a nice surprise." He indicated the basket of flowers.

"It's beautiful, and very thoughtful, thank you." She amused herself by checking out the arrangement. It was full of exotic, unscented flowers. Ginger, antherium, and some purply thing that was pretty as all get-back.

Chase stood up and shook his hand and clapped him on the back in a big Aussie clutch. "Oi, mate!" Then they leapt up and slammed each other in the chest.

Wilson, who was going over some paperwork for House, winced, "Ow!"

"S'nothin'," Chase confirmed as he sat back down to review a chart.

House stepped forward, having been roused from his game of Donkey Kong. "So Cameron, who's this? Cousin? Friend from school? Brother?" He surveyed the young man.

Cameron shot him a quizzical look, "Declan, this is my boss, Dr. House." She turned to House, "This is Declan, one of my boyfriends." She said it casually, knowing that it would sting more than if she had been pointed.

Foreman smiled and bit his lip, pretending to be intrigued with the Star-Ledger.

House nodded, "Boyfriend? One of many boyfriends?" It just begged to be explained.

Declan was only too happy to accommodate him, "Allison here is juggling three of us currently. I'm, Declan, then there's Ted, he's in advertising and Malcolm, what's he do again?"

"Hockey player." She informed him.

"Unemployed," House added.

Chase guffawed, "too right."

"And where in the British Isles are you from?" House asked, being a little too polite.

"Scotland, Glasgow to be precise. But I'm here for now and Cameron's m'girl." With that he grabbed her around the shoulders in a rugged embrace.

House motioned for Wilson to join him in interrogating the newcomer. "So…Declan…what is it that you do here in New Jersey?"

Wilson smiled at House, he was transparent as glass.

"I'm teaching over at the university." He said nonchalantly.

"He's poet in residence," Cameron quickly explained.

"Ooh, swanky." House suddenly darkened, "Wait a minute, you're not Declan McMannus?"

"I'm not? Who am I then?" Declan toyed with a lock of Cameron's hair.

"Stop that. It's distracting. So _you're_ one of this century's most important poets?" House just stared.

"Well, last century too, if we're being honest and not modest." He jumped up. "I've got a class in an hour, but I wanted to see you this evening."

Cameron's face fell, "I can't."

"Ted?" He asked.

"No. Night off." She shrugged.

"Rinsing out your delicates? Well, I suppose the mundane needs attention as much as the grand. We're still on for Saturday, right?" He put his forehead against hers.

"Absolutely." She kissed him on the nose.

"Oh, come on. We're right here!" House protested.

Wilson rubbed House's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Be nice, we can claw out his eyes later in study hall."

House shot him a dirty look.

Foreman waved at Declan as he left. "I don't know Cameron, right now he's number one. At least in the romance department." He commented once he was out of sight.

Cameron considered it, "Sure, he's romantic and a great kisser."

"And charming," Chase threw in.

"Yeah, totally charming, but…" She let her thought trail off.

"He doesn't ring your chimes?" House seemed a little too happy about her ambivalence.

Cameron fixed him with a cold stare, the one she learned from him. "Not everyone was blessed with your social graces."

Foreman chuckled and Chase stifled his laugh.

Wilson turned his attention back to his chart, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Et tu, Brute?" House said bitterly.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves." Wilson responded.

House sighed, "The most unkindest cut of all." He returned to his Game-Boy. Glancing up periodically to see if the team had somehow conspired…what? To antagonize him? To make him miserable? To go out and have a life outside of the hospital? The nerve of them.

It was Cameron's night to host Thursday Pizza and Crap TV Night. She was also doing her laundry, conditioning her hair and giving herself a pedicure. All the benefits of hosting. Foreman watched her as she waddled around her apartment with toe-spacers and a plastic shower cap on her head.

Chase would be arriving with pizza momentarily.

Cameron sat down and pointed the blow dryer at her toes, speaking loudly over the noise. "He looked like his feelings were hurt." She said, picking up the thread of a conversation that never seemed to end.

Foreman rolled his eyes and flipped the page of his Esquire, "So? How many times has he hurt your feelings? Besides, when does he ever offer even to buy us a drink after work?"

She turned off the dryer; it was, after all, one-minute color. She admired her feet, "Purple Passion. Is this hot?" She waved her toes in his face.

Foreman looked at her violet colored nails, "Looks like they're bruised."

Cameron smiled as she whipped out a sheet of decals, "Wait!" She peeled off the flowers and stuck them on her toe nails. "Now what do you think?" Again with the wiggling toes.

"Adorable. Where did Chase go for the pie? The North Pole?" Foreman stood up and stretched.

"Conte's. He forgot to call ahead." She put a clear coat over her nails and put her implements back in the basket set aside strictly for manicure tools.

"Damn." He headed into the kitchen for a beer. "Are you saving this Guinness for anything?" He called out.

"No." He heard faintly from her bedroom.

He could hear the water running; he assumed that she was rinsing out her hair. She'd be back there a while. He sat back down and waited for his dinner. Wheel of Fortune played on the TV with the volume turned down low. He boosted the sound. "Last of the Red-Hot Lovers" he guessed at the partially illuminated puzzle.

There was a knock at the door. He figured that with the water that Cameron didn't hear it, so he got up to let Chase in. "About damn time, I could eat my shoes…" He came face to face with House.

"Oh." They said simultaneously. Each stunned into silence momentarily.

Cameron came out of the bedroom in her running shorts, damp T-shirt and hair in a towel-turban. "Finally! Oh!" She too was taken aback.

House blushed, "I guess I should take a number?"

Cameron laughed, "No, come on in. We're waiting for Chase to come with the pizza." She avoided the implication of his embarrassment.

Foreman stationed himself back on the couch and picked up his magazine. "I'm bringing it next time. He probably got green peppers on it. I hate those things." He took a sip of his beer. "Hey, can I get you something to drink? She's got Heineken."

House nodded, not knowing what to make of the scene. It looked domestic, but from the way they were acting, there was no way that he interrupted anything interesting. Foreman handed him a bottle and sat back down.

Cameron toweled her hair bent over, giving both men a view of her cleavage. "That was worth the drive over." House commented.

Foreman shrugged, "I guess I'm used to it."

House's eyebrows shot up, but saying nothing, he took another swig of beer.

Cameron threw her towel into the laundry room and went back to the bedroom to finish drying her hair, ignoring the two of them.

House tried again, "Come here often?"

Foreman put down his magazine, "What is it that you really want to know?"

House leaned his chin on his cane, "I don't know. What should I know?"

There was a knock at the door and it swung open, "Dinner's here! That place was a zoo!" Chase called. He moved to put the pie on the coffee table and seeing House, exclaimed, "Damn." Collecting himself, he added, "Good thing I got the garlic rolls."

Foreman glanced over at House, "Staying for dinner?"

House went to stand up, "No, you have your little menage-a-tois, or whatever it is that you're doing, I'll just toddle along."

Cameron returned, having removed her toe separators, blown her hair dry and if Foreman wasn't mistaken, applied lip gloss. "No stay, there's plenty. I made a salad."

He paused, it was too weird. Them sitting there, relaxed, casual…too casual for it not to be intimate, but it didn't have that vibe.

Foreman added, "Come on, you know you want to."

Chase had grabbed a slice and filled his mouth. He wished House would leave, having had quite enough of him at work.

Cameron grabbed a plate and served him a slice before he could say no.

"I guess I'm staying." He sat back down.

Cameron smiled and filled her plate with salad. "Good. The rule is we don't talk about work."

Foreman swore he could hear crickets chirping.

As their show came on, it turned out it was one that House watched and conversation naturally turned to who was an idiot, who was trying too hard and who had the best prospects for winning and why.

Chase turned to Foreman, "Okay mate, what's for dessert?"

Foreman smiled and went to the kitchen, returning with a pink box tied with white string. "I went to Olive's"

He opened up the box and there was a perfect little chocolate cake. Four sets of eyes admired it.

Cameron jumped up, "I'll put on the coffee."

Chase followed after her with the paper plates and napkins from their meal and followed her into the kitchen.

House looked at Foreman, "He's such a good helper."

Foreman chuckled, "So when are you going let up on him?"

House checked his watch, "I'd say another two weeks will suffice."

"He's not a bad guy. He's just insecure." Foreman wiped the condensation from the coasters with a leftover napkin.

House shrugged, "He's still here, isn't he?"

"So why torture him?"

"It's fun, besides, I'm so busy with him, I don't have time to torture you." House sat back on the cushions and turned his attention to the recently eliminated loser's final farewell, "If I were the boss, I'd have fired that guy on the first day. You just knew he'd never fit in." He motioned at the television.

"You _are_ the boss. So how come you haven't fired Chase? I mean, if you're that pissed off at him?" Foreman could have sworn that he heard a towel snap in the kitchen.

House smiled, "Yes, I'm pissed off at him, what he did was unforgivable. He jeopardized Cameron's job, your job and he was positively gunning for _my_ job." He paused to think and noticed that Foreman's face had clouded. "Forgot about that, did you? So busy getting your cadre together that you managed to befriend your enemy?"

Foreman blinked and smiled, wiping the look of concern from his face, "I choose to put it behind me."

"So did I." House replied, "Are we actually getting any cake here, or was that just a display designed to tempt us?"

Cameron and Chase emerged from the kitchen giggling like children. "Dessert's here, eat up!" Cameron said, placing the tray on the table.

House took a fork full of cake, "Foreman, what is this? It transcends cake. It's magnificent." He licked the tines.

Cameron's eyes were closed and she wore an ecstatic look on her face. "Mmmm."

"Y'know, the only thing better than eating this, would be eating it off of Cameron." Chase added.

"Trust you to lower the tone of the evening," Foreman admonished.

"Both of you, shut up. I'm eating chocolate." Cameron protested, carefully scraping the plate so as not to miss a crumb.

House had stopped eating to watch Cameron, "Look. She's eating. And it's not something I'd feed to a rabbit."

"We don't talk about that." Chase said sotto-voce. "It annoys her."

Cameron continued to eat, "I'm not hearing this," she warned.

At about ten, cake had been eaten and cleaned up, and since they had work the following day, Chase and Foreman got up to leave. Cameron had turned on the Simpsons, mostly as background noise.

She saw them to the door, but not before Foreman had asked House, "You coming too?"

House stood firmly in the living room, "Don't wait for me. I'll be along presently."

Cameron shut the door behind two curious partners-in-crime and then turned towards House. "So why are you here?"

"I thought you were going to be alone." He answered, making a show of looking for his keys.

"They're in your pocket. And if I were alone, why would you have been here?" She pressed.

"I wanted to talk to you." He put his hand in his pocket and brought them out, their jingle the universal symbol for '_this conversation is over and I'm leaving_.'

"Okay, so talk." She crossed her arms over her chest, as though to protect herself from something he might say.

House looked at the carpet, "I'm sorry. I've been wanting to tell you that for a while, but there wasn't an opportunity."

Cameron was genuinely confused, "Sorry for what? You haven't done anything. Well, nothing you don't normally do," she amended.

"I know that I might have done…or said something that upset you and I wanted to apologize." He saw the look on her face, something between pity and anger, "I should go."

"No. Wait. I accept your apology. You've behaved badly towards me. But if you're truly sorry, than I forgive you." She waited.

"That's it?" He seemed relieved and disappointed.

"That's what you wanted, right?" She turned the television off and then moved towards the kitchen to turn the light off in there.

He opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it. "Yes. That's what I wanted." He walked towards that door, "Good night. Thank you for letting me stay. It was…" he almost said _fun_, "interesting."

She smiled, "you're welcome." She watched him walk down the hall to the elevator. It was only after she closed the door that she squeed and hugged herself.

A.N. Regarding Declan McMannus, yes, I know that's Elvis Costello's real name. So I borrowed it for the character who is clearly not Elvis Costello.

Also, thanks for the enthusiastic response.


	4. Milkshake

Getting Paid

Foreman waited at the curb at the Philadelphia Airport. He leaned against his car waiting for her to emerge from baggage claim. Other impatient drivers waited for their passengers to arrive as well. The guy with the beat up Camaro had smoked five cigarettes before his girl had shown up. She slithered up to him with a large, leopard print rolling bag trailing behind her. Her pants were tucked into her boots and her hair had been sculptured into a solid mass standing at least twelve inches above her scalp, falling in ringlets to her shoulders. She chewed her gum scientifically, "Yo! Joey Bagadonuts! Whadda waiting for? Come help me with this thing. It weighs a friggin ton!" He scooped her up in an embrace that belonged in a hotel room rather than the loading zone of the airport. When he came up for air, he popped the trunk and heaved the bag in, next to some wrenches, four cans of motor oil and what might have been a partially decomposing body, or perhaps his dry cleaning in a large, black garbage bag. "Don't get nothin' on that, it's new!" She let herself into the passenger side of the car and they drove off in a cloud of blue smoke.

Foreman checked his watch. Her flight had landed twenty minutes earlier so she should be waiting for her bag. It was so much easier when you could still meet passengers at the gate. His phone rang, "Foreman. Hey! Finally! I'm outside at the loading zone, across from the US Airways sign. I know there are fifteen US Airways signs. Look for the black guy with the blue car. Wait, I see you." He groaned and rolled his eyes, there was no missing her. He waved and she saw him. She too had a large rolling bag. Her hair was also sculptured in an intricate design on top of her head. She wore a very short, pink, ruffled skirt and a tank top emblazoned with 'Juicy' in glitter. At least it didn't say 'Bootylicous'. As she got closer, he saw the tattoo on her arm, 'Precious'. Her long legs were accentuated by her high-heeled Candies in a matching pink. She gave him a big hug, "Eric! It's so good to see you!"

He hugged her back, "Daphne, it's good to see you too. We've got to haul if we want to beat traffic."

A series of gold bracelets jingled as she handed him her bag. He popped the trunk and nearly got a hernia putting it in for her. She went to get in, but he beat her to the door and opened it for her, "What have I told you about that? You let the man get the door for you."

She stepped back so that he could open the door, "I like your ride. Got a good system in here?"

He got in and pulled away from the curb, and headed towards I-95. As they crossed over the Schuylkill River Daphne changed the radio station from 105 FM, Classic Soul and R&B to Power 99, a hip-hop station. Foreman rolled his eyes and turned down the volume.

"So tonight we're meeting some friends of mine for drinks and dinner. Is that okay?" He maneuvered into another lane to avoid being stuck behind a truck.

"Sure, are we going to the club? I'm in the mood to dance." She popped her fingers and bobbed her head in time with 50-Cent.

"We'll see." He said vaguely, embarrassed to admit that he didn't know a club in his neighborhood.

For the rest of the ride they talked about friends and family back in California. As they got close to their destination, Daphne touched up her lip-gloss. When they pulled up to the restaurant, she arranged herself and slung her small, Louis Viutton bag over her shoulder, waiting for Foreman to open the door.

He noticed, "Nice bag."

She brightened, "Thanks, Hector gave it to me."

"Hector?" He'd not heard about this one.

"He owns the jewelry store near my job. Whenever I got some overtime, I'd go in there and put things on layaway. We got to talking and now we're talking." She explained.

"So you're talking to a guy named Hector? How's Aunt Leona taking that?" He held the door open for her as she entered the restaurant.

She shrugged, "He treats me well, and he has a job. Besides, she doesn't get a vote. She doesn't pay my rent."

"And Hector does?" He had spotted Chase and Cameron and walked back towards them.

"No. _I_ pay my rent. I'm not a hoochie." She slid into the booth and smiled at her new friends. "Hi, I'm Daphne."

Chase reached over to shake her hand, "And you're not a hoochie."

She laughed, "Right. You're cute."

Cameron extended her hand, "I'm Allison, and this is Robert although if you prefer you can call him _Pervert_, _Idiot_ or _Stop That_."

"Pleased to meet you." She opened a menu and scanned it, "So what's good? I'm starving."

Cameron was about to recommend her favorite salad, when Foreman added, "But you _are_ getting paid." He indicated Daphne's handbag.

"This was a birthday present. Hector is a nice man. He does spoil me a little, but I am _not_ getting paid!" She said emphatically.

Foreman laughed, "What is the difference between being spoiled and getting paid?"

Cameron interrupted, "What is _getting paid_?"

Daphne stopped, "Oh my God, you don't know about getting paid?"

Foreman shook his head, "Sheltered."

Daphne nodded her understanding and shifted in the booth thinking about how to put it delicately to what appeared to be virgin ears. Cameron leaned in for the explanation. "Okay, some girls, not me, think that if they're giving it to their man, that he has certain, financial obligations."

There was a pause, much like at the UN, when the Russian ambassador had to wait for the translation, "So let me get this straight. They're prostitutes?"

"Yes." "No." Foreman and Daphne answered simultaneously.

"No," Daphne asserted, "They might have a job themselves, but they expect their man to help out. One of my friends has a basket where she keeps her bills. When her man leaves, _in the morning_," she said meaningfully, "he takes one of the bills with him."

"And he pays it?" Cameron said, like a slow child trying to understand the internal combustion engine.

"Right. She gets paid." Daphne concluded, "How are the burgers here? Big?"

It was still early when they finished dinner and Daphne again brought up the idea of going out to a club to dance. Foreman finally admitted it, "I have no idea where there's a club around here."

Daphne gave him an incredulous look, "Aren't there like, five colleges around here? There's NO club?"

Chase cleared his throat, "Well, there's a small student place called Blackbox, but you never know what's going on there. It's a very young crowd and they don't serve alcohol."

Daphne wrinkled her nose, "Is that it?"

"Well. I do know of a place, but it's not really a club…"

Foreman drove around the warehouse in Trenton one more time, "Chase, are you sure it's here?"

Chase fumbled around in his pocket for the paper. "Oh wait, it's not 5679 It's 6679."

They went back on the access road. When they got to their destination there were dozens of cars parked in front of what looked like an abandoned factory. "This is it."

When they go to the door, a kid had set up a makeshift admission booth on the stoop. "Twenty bucks a piece." He informed them with his hand out.

Foreman and Chase went for their wallets. Cameron stepped forward, "Sweetie," she addressed the kid, "We don't pay to get in."

He grew confused, "no?"

"No. Trust me, you want us to be in there. We'll make this party." She flipped her hair at him.

Daphne stepped up and bent over, "I just flew in from California, and I heard that this was the bangingest party on the East Coast." She adjusted something on her shoe, very nearly giving him a full shot of her thong, but not quite. Then she stood up. "Stamp my hand." He did as he was told.

When they got inside the massive space was illuminated with hundreds of candles, it was the fire marshal's nightmare. Foreman walked over to the 'bar', another kid stood behind an ironing board, mixing drinks from a very limited selection of cheap liquor. He bought everyone a Bud, the only thing offered in a can, and went over to the group.

The DJ, who appeared to be stealing power directly from the pole, was doing a great job of mixing. There were a throng of people dancing, both on the main level and on what were probably condemned catwalks and service stairs held onto the building by rust and hope.

Cameron grabbed Foreman and started dancing. Chase danced with Daphne. It was hot, smoky and dangerous, but that made it even more fun. The DJ put on 'Milkshake' and Daphne squealed, "This is my JAM!" Cameron was intrigued with her moves and made her way over to her, trying to imitate her. Daphne realized that Cameron wanted to learn her dance so she showed her. _My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…_

It was nearly dawn when they got home. Daphne and Cameron had made plans to hit the mall the next day. Foreman dropped Daphne off at Cameron's apartment, and Cameron, having slept through her alarm, made her wait while she got dressed. Daphne took the opportunity to review Cameron's wardrobe. "Some of your stuff is cute, but some of it is so…"

"Boring?" Cameron pulled on a pair of low-rider jeans.

"Yeah. Like those are cute. Are you going to wear them with that top?" She pointed at the peasant blouse that Cameron thought of as her 'reserve Saturday outfit'.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Look, I've got long legs, a big butt and cute little titties. And I work all of it. No one's missing any of my attributes. You. You're little and tiny, but you wear stuff that makes you look bigger, or," she held up a hanger with a vest on it, shaking her head, "mannish. Why? Is it your job? You've got to dress a certain way?"

"Well, I've got to be professional." Cameron was intrigued.

"I have to dress professionally too. I have suits, I have hose. Work is work. You still don't have to dress like a man. Take that off." She went through Cameron's dresser and came up with a lace camisole. "Wear this."

"But that's underwear." Cameron said.

"Try it. It's cute." Daphne watched as Cameron pulled it over her head. "Yes. That's what you want. You've got a nice figure, why are you hiding it?" She shoved Cameron towards a mirror. "Now get out some high-heeled sandals and let's hit the mall."

Once at the mall, Daphne encouraged Cameron to go for a total wardrobe overhaul. In the back of her mind Cameron thought it was cosmic retribution for what they had done to Chase a couple of months back.

In the store and Daphne was trying to convince Cameron to buy nearly a thousand dollars worth of clothes, every stitch of which looked amazing on her.

"What's your theme song?" She asked.

Cameron again, felt like she was three feet underwater, "Theme song?"

"You know, what song plays in your head while you walk down the street? Mine is Beyonce's _Crazy in Love_." She walked down the aisle and back to the soundtrack in her head.

Cameron smiled, "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." She strolled up and back and realized that she had a completely different type of movement when she walked.

"There you go! Now let's lay down some plastic and get to Victoria's Secret. I suspect that most of your gear is tired."

Cameron had filled the trunk of her car with her purchases. She had channeled her inner diva and discovered that inside of her regular, milquetoast persona, that a fierce dominatrix was fighting to get out. Chase would have a field day with that. In the very back of her mind, she thought House might notice it too. The two women went back to Cameron's apartment and the first thing they did was bag up everything that didn't play into her new image and put it in the Goodwill Collection box.

Cameron had bought the Kelis CD and put it on to play while they both got ready for another night out. At long last, Chase was taking them to an "event".

Cameron drove Daphne back to Foreman's place, where he and Chase were drinking beer waiting for them to arrive. They both did a double take as they came through the door. Daphne had bought a white leather skirt that cupped her ass and stopped just shy of the top of her thigh. She paired it with a sheer, pink, lace top and her pink Candies. She was outdone by Cameron who had purchased a satin corset with fat ribbons for laces, both up the front and the back. Her tight, black jeans left just enough room to see that she was tottering around on stiletto high, black leather Candies with silver studs in them. She had bought herself a gold name plate with her name, Allison, spelled out in script. It nestled in the hollow of her throat, drawing attention to her full breasts spilling out over the top of her corset. Foreman swallowed and Chase paled. "Oh my God."

Foreman pulled Daphne into the kitchen, "What did you do to her?"

"Me? Why are you blaming me? She bought it. I just showed her where to find it." Daphne grabbed a soda out of the fridge.

"You turned her out." Foreman accused.

"Honey, she was already there, she just got a wardrobe adjustment, that's all." She walked back into the living room, "So are we going or are we just going to show off our new clothes to each other?"

Chase gave directions to a business park on the edge of town. They entered Command Performance, the men paid twenty dollars and the women were admitted free. There was a demonstration for newcomers.

Throughout the introduction Daphne continued to say, "freaky," under her breath. Cameron sat up and paid rapt attention. She especially enjoyed the information on leather goods.

Chase looked bored and swirled the ice cubes around in his drink. It was a BYOB place, so they were sharing a bottle of rum. Foreman tried hard not to look too interested.

At the end of the demonstration the assembled crowd was offered an opportunity to explore and play with the various tools and apparatus around the 'dungeon.'

A man in a wheelchair approached Daphne, "Pardon me, would you like to whip me?"

"Excuse me?" Daphne stared at him as though he were a roach in a restaurant.

He lowered his eyes, "May I kiss your feet?"

Daphne grabbed a cat o'nine tails off the wall. "Get over there," she pointed to a spot in the other part of the room, "I'ma beat on this freak." The man in the wheelchair looked grateful.

Chase laughed, "Damn, I'd have asked her if I'd have known she would have said yes."

Foreman glared at him, "That's my cousin."

Chase backed off, "Okay. No disrespect."

The two sat in stony silence. Cameron had been checking out leather paddles with a guy who was deceptively dressed in jeans and a T-Shirt. It seemed pretty innocent until she turned around and he spanked her with it.

"Oh shit." Chase said, suddenly feeling faint.

"Dude," Foreman agreed. "I so didn't need to see that."

"I so did." Chase said, "I wonder…"

Foreman grabbed his arm and shook his head, "Don't even. We have to work with her."

"So it's better for her to be with some random guy, than with someone who knows and cares about her?"

"Absolutely." I think it's time we cut out of here, it looks like things are going to get wild." I'll get Daphne, you get Cameron.

Chase went over to let Cameron know that they were leaving. Unfortunately there was a small retail store and it was another half-hour before they were on the road back home. Each of the women had a large bag and the car was permeated with the smell of leather.

On Monday, House entered his office, an hour late, as usual. Cameron was sitting at his desk and some rap song was blasting out of the speakers of his PC. There was something different about her. Her hair was down, and clipped back in a way that gave her a pouf on top. Instead of her usual pant suit, she had taken a page out of the Dr. Cuddy handbook and was wearing a pale pink form fitting top with a short skirt. Her lab coat keeping her modest, and in a way, making her seem even hotter for covering her up.

"Hey!" House yelled, indicting that it might be a good idea to turn down the sound.

_I could teach you, but I'd have to charge._

She reached over and adjusted the volume, "Sorry." She piled his correspondence on his desk.

When she stood, he noticed her shoes, black, pointed toe, with buckles and a low, slender heel. Sexy and comfortable.

_If you want it…the thing that freaks these boys._

She walked past him, and he saw the glint around her neck. A nameplate necklace. He wondered which boyfriend bought it for her. "Allison?"

She turned, knitting her brows at his using her given name, "yes?"

"Just reading your jewelry." He sat down behind the desk and shrugged off the case that carried his laptop.

_Watch if you're smart._

"Oh, can I ask you a favor?" She stood close enough to whisper. He nodded, "I need a mild topical anesthetic, can you write me a 'scrip?" She rubbed her rear for emphasis.

"Get another tattoo?" He asked as he took his pad out of the desk.

"No."

_La, la, la, la, la…the boys are waiting. _


	5. My Jerry Springer Moment

My Jerry Springer Moment

The patient's symptoms weren't anything unusual, but they resisted conventional treatment, and they were getting worse. House had listed them on the whiteboard: irritability, sleeplessness, headache, abdominal pain, lethargy. Typical symptoms of any of a number of maladies.

"What about anemia?" Chase asked.

Cameron flipped through the chart, "hematocrit is low-normal, around 39, not low enough to cause these kinds of symptoms for very long."

House sighed, "Feed him a hamburger. So while he's anemic, we aren't attributing this set of symptoms to that."

Foreman chimed in, "It might contribute to their severity."

Chase nodded, "Right. So the anemia isn't where we need to focus."

House turned, normally each of them would hold on to their theory like grim death, relinquishing it only if it were conclusively proven wrong, usually through painful testing of the patient. "Depression?"

Foreman consulted his notes, "I don't think so. That abdominal pain, it doesn't really fit."

House probed further, "And you don't want to investigate a neurological source?"

Foreman grew thoughtful, "I'm not ruling it out entirely, but I believe that we should exclude other factors before we start with neuro." He saw House's disappointment, "Sorry."

Cameron sucked the end of her pen, "What about duration? He's had some form of these symptoms for years."

House thought, "Environmental?"

"His house is four years old, built on a former onion field…" Chase advised.

"You checked the site information? That's thorough." House eyed him suspiciously, "Don't you hate that kind of research?"

"I knew you'd ask, so I was pro-active."

House paced, "What's his occupation?"

"He's a police officer. A patrolman. So he's not in the same place for very long. Plus his partner doesn't have any symptoms." Chase rattled off.

"Is there anything you don't know?" House asked, miffed that he hadn't been able to trip him up.

"I don't know what women want." He offered.

Foreman and Cameron laughed. House grew annoyed, "Oh come on. What's with you? What happened to that cut-throat competition?"

Foreman thought of something, "Guillian-Barre Syndrome?" He looked over to Cameron.

"He doesn't have muscle weakness, so an NCV might not reveal anything." She said, flipping through pages and pages of notes.

"What about a spinal tap for protein." Foreman suggested.

House spun around; at least it was an idea, "Okay. Try that."

Foreman continued, "But you don't think it's Guillian-Barre, do you?"

"I don't, but I would have expected Cameron to be selling it hard." He stared at her.

"I agree with Eric, I think it's something else. Something environmental." She turned to Foreman, "Eric, what about hobbies," again she flipped, "He's in church league softball. Shortstop. He's also big on target shooting."

House stopped, "Okay, so if we didn't know anything about his environment, what would we suspect?"

Foreman motioned towards the board, "all of that."

"What if he were three instead of thirty?" House postulated.

Cameron got it, "Heavy metal poisoning. Lead. But he doesn't have an old house with chipping paint. Maybe it's mercury?"

"Does he eat a lot of fish? Tuna is very popular with cops I understand." House went over to his desk and started thumbing through a stack of magazines and papers.

"I could ask, or we could just do a blood test." Chase said, trying to think of anything that wasn't consistent with the diagnosis.

"Got it!" House grabbed the MMWR from the CDC. "Last year in Alaska a group of students on the shooting team at their school had high levels of lead in their blood from a poorly ventilated practice facility."

"That's it? Lead poisoning from too much target practice?" Chase whined with disappointment.

"Sorry it wasn't more serious. Test him, but start him on EDTA." House motioned for Wilson to come in.

The team headed over to the lab, leaving House and Wilson alone.

"This is getting serious." House muttered as he and Wilson headed to the cafeteria for lunch.

"What?" Wilson fiddled with his Blackberry as he walked.

"The team." He stopped, waiting for Wilson's complete attention.

"What's wrong with the team?" Wilson put his pager away.

"They're working together. They're happy. They don't fear me anymore. I don't like it." He grabbed a tray, "Oh crap, corned beef and cabbage. He nodded at the guy on the grill, "A Reuben, no pickle."

Wilson opted for a burger and fries, "That's your problem? You can't maintain your desired level of terror?"

House paid for their lunch and they found a table in a quiet corner. "I've always encouraged a healthy competition among my doctors." He took a big bite of his sandwich.

Wilson laughed, "A master of understatement. You want them at each other's throats."

"Right. Make them beg for my notice and grudging respect. But today they were positively using one brain. It's like aliens replaced them with pods or something. Chase, of all people, was actually supporting someone else's idea."

"What's next, the four horsemen? Christ, House, you're the only person I know who thinks that cooperation is a bad thing." Wilson picked up a limp fry and motioned with it, "Perhaps this is a new era, cross-discipline collaboration. No wait, that's the whole reason for _having_ a team. I don't get it. What's the problem?"

"It screws with who I am fundamentally. Today we managed to civilly diagnose a patient. We didn't need invasive testing, we didn't try toxic medicines that provoked serious side effects, and we didn't get it wrong three times before we got it right. We came to a consensus." He poked at his potato chips, "and we got it right."

Wilson nearly choked on his burger in amusement, "don't worry. Maybe it was a fluke."

"No, they've become cohesive. And I blame Foreman. He's the one that got them all together. You know that they go out and have adventures? Cameron even got a tattoo."

Wilson nodded, "Yeah, a koala."

House could barely control his anger, "How do _you_ know?"

"I asked to see it. It's cute." Wilson took another bite of his burger.

"You've seen her ass? She showed it to you? It's a _koala_?"

"Jealous?" Wilson goaded him. "You should have been there for the pole dance."

House pushed his plate away; he felt the color drain from his face. "Pole dance?"

"Don't freak. It was beautiful actually. I was out…" he omitted with whom, presumably a woman not his wife, "and I happened to see them down at Snooky's. I think it might have been two-dollar margarita night. At any rate, there's a jukebox and a structural support, and well, I guess it was her song." Wilson watched House as he explained; he thought he could visibly detect an elevation in his blood pressure.

House reeled. The idea of Cameron letting go enough to…no, they were all messing with him and they got Wilson in on it. He composed himself. But then curiosity got the best of him, "What song?"

"Van Halen..." Wilson started.

House shook his head, knowing what Wilson was about to say, "No..."

"Yup, Hot for Teacher." He slid the dagger in. "If you ever let her go again, she won't starve."

Cameron studied the results of the blood test. "Lead. Lots and lots of lead." She attached it to the chart, "Well, that was easy."

Foreman threw another pencil into the acoustical tiling in the ceiling. It stuck. "You busy tonight?"

Cameron thought for a moment, "No. I'm off all week. I told them I needed rest. Why?"

"Feel like grabbing dinner? Chase found this new place." He checked his watch, 2:45, the worst time in the work day.

"I guess, but I've got to get home early. I promised Malcolm I'd call him." She made one last notation and closed the chart.

"So what's with these guys anyway? Usually they go away after a while." Chase was still bitter that she wouldn't give him a tumble.

"I don't know. It's the damndest thing. The more I ignore them, the better they like it. Men are so weird." She raised her arms over her head and stretched, causing her skirt to hike up.

Chase watched her; he loved her new wardrobe, and her new attitude. "It's in our nature. We like the chase, we thrill in the hunt."

"It's all a big, boring game. I've already told Ted that I don't want to see him any more." She slid her shoe off and leaned over to rub her foot.

Foreman sat up, "Why? I thought you liked him."

She shrugged, "I do, he's nice. But it's not fair to him. He's not seeing anyone else, and I think he wants to get serious. I don't see myself with him."

Chase brightened, "So you're down to two?"

She looked at him coldly, "Not that it means anything to you."

Foreman studied her, "Isn't Declan leaving for England next month?"

"Yes. What about it?" She sat back down.

"So there will just be Malcolm." He surmised.

"Well…"

"You're dumping him too?" Foreman got up, as did Chase.

"Hey, I'm allowed. I dated them, we had some fun. I'm done. What's the problem?" She tried to get a decent reflection off the surface of a work lamp so she could check her hair.

Foreman took a deep breath, "This isn't about how much you like these guys, this is about how much you like House. You're not over him, are you?"

Chase shook his head, "I think she needs an intervention."

Cameron got defensive, "It's not that."

Foreman leaned over, his lips nearly on her ear, "No? Then what is it?"

She sighed, "Okay. So I'm not over him. I was dropped on my head. It's totally irrational and I know that. But I think you're asking an awful lot from me. At least an addict can withdraw. I work with the man every day. How can I stop thinking about him when he's in my face all the time?"

"So what are you going to do? Go back to the way things were?" Foreman paced.

"No! No way. I like how things are going now. I go out, I have fun, and I meet all kinds of great people. I'll just get some new boyfriends. But I'm not going to string guys along just to have them around me. If it doesn't look like it's going to work out, then I'll cut them loose."

Foreman smiled, "New boyfriends?"

Cameron checked her nails, "Yes. There's Charles, he's a stockbroker. He's called a couple of times. And remember Danny?"

"The student?" Chase's voice went up an octave on the last syllable.

"Okay, maybe he's too young. The point is that I have options. If all I want is guys, I can get them."

Foreman clapped his hands in glee, "That's my girl!"

"You're encouraging her?" Chase admonished.

"Hell yes! Why should she sit at home?" Foreman gave her a squeeze, "Good for you."

"No, that's not it. You don't get it." Cameron seemed sad, "I know what real love is, and I'm not settling for anything less. I'll give them a chance, but if it's not there, then…" She motioned with her hand, indicating that they would be on their way.

Foreman grew serious, "Allison, do you honestly love House?"

Chase's eyes got wide, "Oh." He groaned softly.

"I think I do, but how would I know for sure? I know that I have feelings for him, but you can't love someone in a vacuum. Until he loves me back, it's academic, isn't it?" She was remarkably dispassionate.

"I feel like I'm on Jerry Springer. Take good care of yourselves, and each other!" Chase said in disgust.

"I prefer 'dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians', but that's not really to the point is it?" Foreman said, quoting from the opera.

Cameron giggled. "I record the show on the DVR. Want to come over and watch it tonight after dinner?"

Chase fumed in the corner as Foreman allowed the subject to be changed, "What's the topic?"

Cameron thought for a moment, "I'm an idiot with poor coping skills and no teeth?"

"Why not? You in Chase?" Foreman checked his watch. It still wasn't time to go home.

Chase bit his lip, "I s'pose." He regarded Cameron, "What is it about him anyway?"

It was Cameron's favorite subject, and she indulged herself, "He's attractive, intelligent and sexy. I can see why you'd be mystified."

"But he's really mean too." He pointed out.

"I can rationalize that. He's in pain, he's had disappointments in his life, his heart got broken." She knew he'd never understand.

"But you've had all sorts of terrible stuff happen in your life. You're not mean." Chase observed, "You're one of the nicest people I know."

"Thank you." She hugged him. "Sometimes I need to hear that."

House walked in while they were still embracing and he winced. "Okay, break it up. What are the results?"

Cameron handed him the report. "Lead."

"Anti-climactic, isn't it?" He handed it back to her.

"Maybe we can get Balto to mush down here with a serum?" She proposed, "Make it more dramatic?"

He smiled, "You're a funny girl. All of a sudden."

"Is that a bad thing?" She turned to file the chart.

"That depends. Chase, Foreman, go check on Officer Friendly for me. Take him some ice cream." He waved a dollar at Foreman.

"Are you serious?" Foreman took the bill.

"I don't really care what you do; I'm trying to get you guys to take a powder. Now's it's lost all its subtlety." He shooed them out and then turned towards Cameron. "Now, what's all this I hear about tattoos and pole dancing?"

Cameron coughed, "What?"

"I'm hearing things, wild rumors if you will, about you." He leaned against the stainless steel table.

"Oh. Are you talking to me as a boss, or in some other capacity?" She licked her lips nervously.

"As a boss, I have no official standing. This is the 21st century and there's no morals clause in your contract. So that's not it." He waited patiently for her explanation.

"How about a sanity clause? You're sounding a bit crazy House."

"There's no such thing as 'Sanity Claus' Do you have any idea how hot it is, you quoting the Marx Brothers?" He reached into his pocket for his bottle, and then thought better of it.

"Hotter than a tattoo or a pole dance?"

"Stop playing with me. Stop this game altogether. I want the old Cameron back." He tapped his cane for emphasis. "I never know what to expect any more."

She smiled at him, "But I'm having fun. If you're off kilter, well, you need to explore that on your own. As for the rest of it. It's on my time and on my ass."

His eyes went involuntarily to that part of her body. "Allison…" he started suggestively, "perhaps I was a bit hasty. Maybe if I actually _saw_ the tattoo…"


	6. Behind the Walls of Sleep

Behind the Walls of Sleep

He went down again, his head disappearing under the dark water. It was night, but she could plainly see him, illuminated either by the full moon or the bright street lamp that must have been behind her. She watched him, saying nothing, just staring back at her as he slowly submerged. His white shirt billowed around him and floated on the surface. She sat on the beach, his cane just out of reach. She tried to scream for help but she couldn't. It didn't matter; the surf pounded the shore so loudly that no one would have heard her. She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn't work. She reached for his cane, but it kept moving further away from her. House was drowning and Allison could only watch, paralyzed with fear. She beat the sand in frustration, "House!" She screamed, "Swim Dammit!"

Cameron sat up in bed. The room was dark and silent, a stark contrast from the waves of her nightmare. "Oh my God." She gulped for air and her pulse raced. _It was so real_. A weight pressed against her chest, her emotions were engaged and suddenly she sobbed, with fright, sadness and frustration.

It took about twenty minutes, but finally she calmed down. She checked her clock. It was four-thirty. It was still dark outside and she bit her lip. The phone was in her hand and she debated. Her thumb hovered over the re-dial button. He would understand. She called him.

It rang three times before he answered it, "Foreman," he croaked.

"Eric, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I've got to talk to someone." Her voice wavered and she thought she was going to cry again.

"Allison? What's wrong?"

She had roused her friend at the crack of dawn, and now she felt too stupid to tell him why. She took a deep breath. "I had a bad dream."

He sighed, "A bad dream? I doubt that's all. Was it about House?" There was a lot of heavy lifting in this friendship. He rolled over.

"I'm sorry. It was so scary and disturbing. I just needed to talk to someone. Go back to sleep, I'll see you at work." She waited.

"You're not hanging up."

"No. I didn't mean it." She leaned over and turned on a light.

"I'll meet you at the pancake house on Nassau in thirty minutes." He hung up.

She snagged a table and ordered him breakfast. He slid into the booth and grabbed his coffee. "Cream?"

She shoved the bowl of creamers towards him. "It's real half-and-half."

She waited for him to take a sip, before she spoke. "I really appreciate your coming."

He drank down half his cup, "I'm here. So tell me about your dream."

While they waited for their breakfast she told him all about it. The fear, the helplessness and how emotional she was when she woke. The waitress brought their food just as she finished.

"I don't understand why I was so…upset." She forked a piece of cantaloupe.

He shrugged, "Your dreams are your brain's way of clearing out all the stuff you don't need, or the stuff that you haven't dealt with. Where do you think it came from?"

She peppered her poached eggs and thought, "I think it has to do with what he told me on our date."

"You know, I wondered when you were going to tell me about that." He combined maple and boysenberry syrup on his pancakes.

"Save me a bite of those," she said. She sipped her coffee, "He brought me a corsage. Roses."

"A corsage? Interesting. Corny." Purple syrup dripped on his tie. "Damn." He dipped his napkin in his water glass and blotted.

"It was sweet. He made an effort. He wore a tie, he ironed his shirt. He looked good." She gazed off at the memory.

"Stay with me here. So what happened?"

"I knew that I only had that one chance to really know what he was thinking. He came to my apartment twice and begged me to come back to work. I had a pretty good idea that he liked me as much as I liked him. He knew that's why I came back. I wanted him to say it." She toyed with her spoon.

"Of course he likes you. Please, it's only obvious." He pushed the plate with the remains of his pancakes towards her.

She carefully cut them into six even pieces and nibbled the first one. "Okay, so we're agreed, the only one who doesn't know it is him. So we get to dinner and I think it was the first date that he'd been on in about a decade. I told him that I didn't want to know what wine he liked or what movies he hated, I just wanted to know what he felt about me."

Foreman dropped his fork, "No. Tell me you didn't." He smacked his forehead. "That is so estrogen driven I think you just gave me a vagina."

"I just don't want to play games."

Foreman shook his head, "That's not games. You don't ask stuff like that on a first date. So, how quickly did he limp out of there? I'm guessing he broke a land-speed record."

"Not before telling me that I wasn't capable of loving him. That I had a pathological need for him. That I had a delusion that I could fix him. So I guess that's how he felt." She bit her lip and tried not to tear up. "So I cowboy'd up, ate my macaroni and I was home in time for 'Sex and the City."

"Harsh." Foreman said flagging down the waitress for a refill on his coffee.

"Yeah. He doesn't think very much of me." She ate another piece of pancake, "Oh, shit."

"What?" He continued to stir his cream in.

"He wasn't telling me what he thought about me." She shoved aside the pancakes, "he was telling me what he was afraid of. It had nothing to do with me. It's all _him_.

She threw a twenty on the table. "I've got to go. I've got to talk to him. He actually believes that the only person who could care about him has got to be unbalanced in some way."

"Slow down." He pointed for her to sit. "The very worst thing you could do is to go rushing into his office and…vomit up this amazing revelation. They let you walk around on your own without a keeper?"

"So what do I do?" She sat half-way in the booth, as though ready to spring into action.

"Nothing. Don't do anything. Am I growing breasts? Let's get together tonight and we'll braid each other's hair." He rolled his eyes, "Apparently there wasn't a strong female role model at your house. So we're going to do things my way."

"Eric, I told you I don't want to play games. There's nothing wrong with just being honest."

He slammed the table, causing his water glass to skid in a pool of condensation. "Honest? There is nothing honest about relationships. They are fabricated out of unexpressed thoughts and company manners."

Cameron laughed, "You don't mean that."

"Okay, I don't mean that entirely, but you have got to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. A little mystery is a good thing. I'll admit that House is a guy who needs to know that he's not going to be rejected, but you can't just serve yourself up on a plate. He knows that he wants you around, but he's got unresolved feelings about his ex too. Just keep doing what you're doing. Let him come to you."

Cameron drew patterns in the puddle of water with her knife. "I understand what you're saying. I'm supposed to be chased after. If he doesn't come after me, then he doesn't want me. That sounds good in theory, but look around, he's not chasing after me. I just _know_ that if he only gave me a chance…"

"Don't be naïve. He wants you as much as you want him, but until he's ready all you're doing is giving him reason after reason to _not_ chase you. Look what you've done already. If you had played it differently you could be waking his ass up with this nonsense instead of mine." He got up, "If we leave now, we'll only be two hours early for work."

Cameron sat at House's desk sorting his mail. She was sidetracked by JAMA and was scanning the articles, looking to see if there was something to highlight for House. She didn't hear him come in.

"Another sleepless night?" He hung his lab coat on the hook behind the door.

"Sorry?" She put the journal down and stood up.

He waved her back into her seat and sat opposite her in one of the visitor chairs. He put his Nike's up on the desk and leaned back. "You look tired."

"I am a little." She again stood up.

"Don't go. Keep me company for a minute. So who's the one putting those circles under your eyes?" He flipped through his junk mail and put it in the round file.

"You are." She reached over and flipped on the shuffle on his iPod. PIL's _This is Not a Love Song_ blasted through the speakers. She turned down the sound to a bearable level.

"Gosh, and I thought it was all just a beautiful dream. Did you fly into my window at night?" He didn't even look up.

"Do you have that stuff on auto-pilot or something? A sarcastic remark for every occasion?" She too, propped her feet up on the desk, giving him a decent view of her pink underwear.

"Pretty much. So were you wondering if I was getting enough to eat, or was your concern more about my emotional health?" He popped a Vicodin. "Because there's no need to worry your pretty little head, I'm A-OK."

"I'm not worried about you. I know that you're okay. You must admit that it is awkward between us though. Sometimes I wonder what it is you want me around for. But," she rose, "I've made my peace with it. I like my job, I like my colleagues. I'm doing good work here. You'll sort yourself out eventually. In the meantime, enjoy the view." She walked out towards the lab. She hoped he liked the sashay that she added especially for him.

Chase sat at the microscope, sorting through slides. "Hey, is House here yet? Some guy at CDC has a question about Mrs. Riley."

"He's in his office. He's in a 'reflective' mood. He just had a dose. Give him thirty minutes, he'll be super-mellow. Give me half, I'll help." She took a tray of slides.

"I met this girl last night." He continued to make his notes while he spoke.

"And today ends in 'Y'. Did you actually call the number? It's not Dominoes is it?" She smiled.

"No. It's a real number. I'm taking her out on Saturday." He reached for the next slide.

"Ohh. Date night. Going anywhere special?"

"Maybe drive into The City? Or should we go for a walk on the beach?" He leaned back.

"Not the beach." She shuddered, "New York on the first date? Why not Bennegans and a movie? Don't invest so much up front. It makes you look desperate." She squinted into the scope, "this one's mismarked." She set it aside for later.

"I want to make a good impression."

"If she likes you, she'll be happy just to spend time with you. Wait for the third date. Then go all out. Be sure to bring condoms."

House poked his head in, "Speaking from experience Cameron?"

"Absolutely. You know what the Boy Scouts say, be prepared." She swung her legs around, keeping her knees together, elegant and sexy all at the same time.

He swallowed, "Clinic called, they're backed up. I'm sending you two, maybe they won't want me. Find Foreman and make him go too."

"Where are you going to be?" Cameron asked.

"I'll be wherever people hunger for justice, I'll be wherever a man just wants a fair deal, I'll be in the laughter of a little child…" He clutched his hand to his chest as he recited.

"Right, the lounge in maternity watching your soap." She put her glasses in her lab coat pocket.

Chase went looking for Foreman who was sleeping in the resident's lounge. House held Cameron back. "You know, I am enjoying the view."

"You always did." She fixed him with a stare, "Has anything changed?"

"You. You've changed completely." He was clearly on the best part of the Vicodin, the edge was off the pain and his muscles had untensed, the stage he called bulletproof.

"For the better I hope." She waited for him to say something and instead was treated to four different facial expressions. "You know, if you stopped mentally editing what you were going to say to me and instead just said it, it might be a good thing."

He grimaced, "I doubt it."

She shrugged, "Okay, I've got to go. Those noses won't blow themselves."

"Cameron. Wait." He stared at the ceiling momentarily.

"I'm waiting." She leaned against the door jam.

"No. I mean, wait." His eyes were moist; and deeper and more formidable than the sea.

It was her turn to edit her thoughts. _How long? For what? Why?_ Pushing all of her need and desire out of her head, she smiled at him and touched his cheek, "As long as I can."

She turned and walked towards the clinic, heels clicking on the linoleum and her hips swaying gently side to side.

House watched until she disappeared behind the double doors at the end of the hall.


	7. A Light That Never Goes Out

A Light That Never Goes Out

Normally he had no truck with maudlin moods, but lately he had been pried out of his usual complaisance and it made him cranky. He had fooled himself at first. He hired her because of her beauty, she was his ornament. Now, of course it was different. It was disappointing, finding out that she wasn't just the girl on the team. She was a person, with her own needs. She needed him for something he couldn't give.

She knew before he did that he didn't want to be in this world without her, but she left anyway, leaving him to piece it together. Twice he had to beg her to return. She had demanded his attention, and even then he wriggled out of it. Bait and switch. He was used to getting his way, always. He hadn't made any promises. But he knew. He knew that he betrayed her.

He pulled out the bottom drawer and saw the bottle there. His old pal Jack. House peered into the red coffee cup. It was fairly clean. The clock said it was a scosh past four. He thought for a moment. Propriety said that he needed to wait until after five. That's not what he was waiting for.

Finally Wilson floated past the window and House motioned him in. "About time. What were you doing anyway?"

"Some of us see patients you know. So what's got your panties in a knot?" He went to sit down, but House stopped him.

"Close those blinds. Lock the door." His hand was on the neck of the bottle. Wilson did as he was told.

"Now what? Did you find an old joint in your Grateful Dead cassette case? I can dig up a hemostat if we need to." He slumped into one of the seats.

"Grab a glass." He put the bottle on the desk.

"I'm disappointed. I thought at least we'd be looking at pictures of naked women. You don't need me to get drunk with." He held out a mug he grabbed off the bookcase.

"Yes I do, Cuddy won't fire both of us."

Wilson clucked, "She can't fire you. Your job here is a condition of your settlement."

"Do you ever get tired of raining on my parade?" He poured.

"So why are we drinking? Are we celebrating?" Wilson held his mug aloft, as though to toast.

"No. For courage." House swallowed his three fingers worth and reloaded.

Wilson put his down on the desk. "I was going to wait for the Wizard to give me that."

"Right after he gave me a heart?" Jack did not taste very good with the remains of coffee.

"Oh. You're in _that_ mood." Wilson decided to drink after all.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing." He said quickly.

The two Vicodin he took previously had relaxed him, the alcohol enhanced their effect. He leaned forward. "Oh, go ahead; tell me what you're thinking. That's why I asked you in here."

"Well, I know that you don't have a case right now, so you're either bored or you're in an introspective mood. Since you've got The Smiths playing on your iPod, I'm guessing introspection. Frankly, that always scares me." He swallowed more of the liquor listening to the line, '_If a double-decker bus, crashes into us_…'

"You know James…" He lost his thought, or he still hadn't actually formed it.

"Yes Greg?" First names, never a good sign.

"I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" He set down his mug. And gazed out his window onto the parking lot.

Wilson scanned his brain, what things exactly was House talking about? Stacy? Cameron? His life in general? "I'll go with yes. To whatever things you're referring." He gulped the last bit of liquor in the mug and set it down. House poured him another.

"I'm tragic and it makes me fascinating." House said, fiddling with the song selection, choosing to replay the song. "At least to her."

Cameron. Now he knew what he was working with. "There's an awful lot that makes you fascinating. The tragedy is just one part of an extended tableau…"

"Less of it if you don't mind. This is my pity party. But you know what the real tragedy is?"

"Genocide in Africa?" Wilson settled in. He wasn't going to be home in time for dinner. Not tonight. Not that Julie was making dinner.

He shot him a look. "The real tragedy is that I've been mourning something that never existed." He thought about taking another shot of Jack, but instead, put the bottle away.

"Oh?" Wilson didn't know what else to say.

"She came in here and told me that I was 'the one' but that I could never make her happy. Not like she is with Mark. What kind of shit is that?" He paused, "Said I made her lonely."

"If it's any consolation, I hear the same thing from Julie." Wilson admitted.

"That's my point. Why is it _our_ fault? They liked us for our intensity in the first place. Got all damp with how devoted we are to our work. Why stay with me if it's a guy like Mark who's going to make you happy? Why date me at all? He's ordinary and I'm—not. It's not even like we're the same species." He shook his head at the unfathomable. "I wouldn't have done that to her. I knew that she was good for me from the beginning." He trailed off, lost in a memory.

Wilson didn't know if he meant Stacy or Cameron. "She has needs too."

"But it's her job to find someone who can fulfill them. Why does she keep coming after me? You know that I'm all wrong for her." He hit a couple of buttons on the iPod and the English Beat's, _I Confess _played. "That's the stuff. I've ruined three lives." He echoed the lyric.

"Maybe she knows that you _can_ fulfill her needs. Cameron is different from Stacy."

"You know what's really galling? The fact that I've let all these years slip by thinking that if only…if only it weren't for this leg," he slapped the offending appendage, "that things would have been different. Apparently I had lost her anyway; the leg was just the cherry on the shit sundae."

"So what's going to change?" Wilson asked.

"Change?" House blinked.

"Let's do a differential diagnosis on this." Wilson got up and walked over to the whiteboard concealed behind the wooden cabinet. "Okay, so the symptoms are self-pity, loneliness, irritability and nostalgia. What are the possible causations?"

"Smart-ass." House wore the barest hint of a smile.

"I'm serious. You're a scientist, let's approach this scientifically." The dry-erase marker was poised for ideas.

"Fine. Put heartbreak, disappointment, and disability on there."

Wilson scribbled them down and added one, addiction.

"Hey, that's a whole other show Dr. Phil."

"You know, I'm the last one to challenge you, being your closest friend and all…"

"You're my only friend."

"That too. I cut you too much slack. Let's get real here. Your addiction has stunted your emotional growth. As long as you confuse emotional pain with physical pain, you won't be able to move on from where you are." Wilson became passionate, putting both palms on his side of the desk and leaning in to emphasize his point.

"That's not fair. Give me _some_ credit. I've just had a breakthrough. I also have a very painful physical injury. There's not an awful lot of moving on from that." House did his very best impersonation of a puppy dog.

"Poor 'oo." Wilson mocked, "Seriously Greg. Unless you find some other way of dealing with your chronic pain, I don't see how you can have a future with anyone."

House stood, "I've tried all kinds of therapies…"

"You've got a choice." Wilson sat, hoping to get House to stand down as well.

House paled, "You mean…"

"It's been an option all along. You would get back so much. Imagine being able to be active again. The muscle isn't going to grow back." This wasn't the first time the suggestion had been made.

"I've heard the expression costing an arm or a leg; I just never thought I'd have to pay that price."

"Think of it as a half-off sale. You get to keep your arm." Wilson smiled. "Promise me you'll think about it." He glanced at his watch. "Let's share a cab home."

"You just want to prove to Julie that you were with me." House shut off his computer.

"That too."

Cameron looked at her date. Liam was a nice enough guy. For a guy who thought that Bill was too ordinary a nickname for William. He was still talking about some real estate deal he had made earlier in the week. She was desperate to get home. Dating was exhausting. It was a lot of work being on the market. If she wasn't out trolling for guys she was out on dates with them. Two or three nights a week of that and the laundry started to pile up.

Liam got into a discussion of interest rates and she found herself daydreaming about spending a quiet evening with House. House would know when to shut up and leave her alone.

She knew right away that she wouldn't sleep with him. Sometimes she did sleep with her dates. Occasionally she'd even have fun, but those nights were few and far between. The biggest disappointment was that as soon as she was done that they didn't just disappear. _Thanks for the tumble, now get out_. She thought about needle-pointing a pillow with that motto. A smile played at her lips. Liam thought that it was evidence that she was falling under his spell.

They lingered over dessert and when he dropped her off, she extended no offer to come up for coffee. It was ten by the time she was in bed, a respectable enough hour. It was after nights like this that she cursed her husband for dying. "It's your fault I'm in this situation." She'd say out loud. She also cursed him when she was trying to find an intact pair of stockings with her date waiting for her in the living room.

She turned on the television and watched her friends Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Amanda try and sort out their love lives. "If women like that can't have good relationships, what hope is there for me?" Secretly she related to Carrie and her relationship with Mr. Big. Maybe there could be a happy ending after all.

The next morning Cameron beat House into the office. She turned on the computer and grabbed the stack of mail and began sorting. Journals in one pile, letters in another, those always got priority from her, the last was junk. She opened the letters and scanned them. Some were letters of thanks, those _she_ answered. Others were letters begging for his help. Those she'd analyze and leave out for him to decline or accept. After an hour she sat back and thought about getting another mug of coffee. She glanced up and saw the whiteboard. The word that stood out to her was _heartbreak_, although _addiction_ certainly grabbed her attention.

She debated whether or not to erase it. Instead she got up to close the cabinet; at least it wouldn't be exposed to anyone who happened into his office. She had one side closed and was interrupted in closing the other side.

"Good morning Dr. Cameron!" House was awfully chipper for a man who should be nursing a hangover. Then he saw what she was doing, "Uh. Thanks."

She blushed, "No problem. There's a letter there that you should see. Foster at Mercy has someone she wants you to look at."

"I'll read it in a minute. So what are you doing?" He sat down in his seat and scanned his e-mail, avoiding eye-contact.

"What I always do, taking care of..." She stopped, not really able to finish the sentence.

"I appreciate it." He said simply, turning to his computer screen to avoid her expression.

She smiled. "I know."


	8. Love Boat

Cuddy stared at the fat envelopes in front of her. It was a risk, a huge risk, but an ambush was the only way. House loathed continuing education and every year she had to beat him into going to a seminar to get the units that he needed. He hated traveling, hated being away from the hospital and he probably hated fun.

Cameron consulted her Blackberry as the two women waited for him. "It's been delivered…okay, now he's read it." She waited expectantly for the reply. She shifted in her seat, "This feels like I'm in the principal's office. Am I in trouble?"

Cuddy laughed, "No! What makes you ask that?"

Cameron lips curved up in a small smile, "I don't know. I'm in here with my boss's boss waiting for my boss. Seems kind of ominous."

"Nothing like that. Don't be paranoid." Cuddy shuffled papers on her desk.

"You seem really nervous." Cameron observed, "It's making me nervous."

Cuddy was about to explain when House burst through the closed door. "I told you, no more nooners! I'm exhausted!" He leaned out into the reception area to make sure that everyone heard him.

"Yeah, yeah, and yet, here you are." She pointed at the seat next to Cameron.

"Oh, a threesome, we'll that's different." He sat, "So why am I here?"

"It's about your CMEs." She shot him a stern look.

He opened his mouth to protest and realized, ironically, that he didn't have a leg to stand on. "Crap. Has it been three years already? So what and where, and how good is the bar?"

Cuddy smiled, "Interestingly enough I think you'll like this one. It's a cruise." She handed him one of the packets, "in the Mediterranean."

"So it doesn't really matter what the topic is." He actually seemed happy about it.

"Pediatric allergy, immunology and infectious disease. I tried to get one that actually had something to do with your specialty." She also handed a packet to Cameron. "Yours too."

"Mine?" She took it tenderly, "I'm going too?"

Cuddy shrugged, "I need someone to make sure that he actually goes to the seminars. Besides, one of your old colleagues is speaking; I thought you might enjoy that."

"Oh? Who?" Cameron played with the string of one of the enclosed luggage tags.

"Dr. Weston." She said, checking the roster.

"Oh. Him. Well thank you. This is an unexpected bonus." She got up to leave.

Cuddy stopped her, "Before you thank me you might want to check the departure date; you've got less than a week to get prepared."

"What?"

"I didn't want to give him too much time to back out." She indicated House who was eating all of the chocolate out of her candy bowl. "Leave me some of that, I have PMS."

He dropped what was in his hand, "Say no more. Please." He stood and grabbed Cameron by the arm, "I sure hope we have to share a cabin," he shouted.

"No!" Cuddy called after him, "You're sleeping in the lifeboat." She shut the door behind her and pumped her hand in the air. It wasn't easy making House follow the rules and it wasn't cheap either.

At Thursday Pizza and Crap TV Night Cameron was too preoccupied with the whole thing to pay attention to who was getting fired that week.

Foreman thumbed through the materials, "This looks plush. My conference was in San Diego. They had a cash bar. So explain again why Cuddy picked you to go on this…boondoggle."

"I have to keep House in line." She had lined up twelve M&Ms on the coffee table and was eating them one by one.

Chase snorted, "Good luck. Can you imagine him drunk in Europe? It'll set foreign relations back a century."

Foreman laughed too, "I'll bet you thought this was a dream come true. Your chance to get to know him away from the hospital. Eight days and seven nights on the Love Boat. Right. If you're _lucky_ he'll only be hung over at the seminars."

"Oh that's not the best part, the best part is that this guy I knew at Cedars is going to be there presenting. Charles Weston. We used to joke about his 'Westosterone', grabby bastard." She pushed a green one aside, saving it for last.

Foreman took out the agenda, "Oh yeah, right here. He's doing something about asthma. He just published something interesting about the increase in childhood asthma in the inner-city."

"I know. His pet project. And his research is sound. He should give a really good talk, but I really don't want to be in the same place as a guy who likes to play grab-ass in the staff lounge." She shuddered, "I wonder if his lovely wife will be there. Susie Creamcheese." She drilled imaginary dimples in her cheeks with her pinkie. "Ooh!" she said, imitating Betty Boop.

"Well it's good that you don't have strong feelings about him. Besides House will be there to protect you. I can see it now, poor little Cameron cornered by the big icky Doctor. He's saying all kinds of awful things and just as he's about to cross the line into date rape, House will appear and fight him off with his cane." He stood up with a rolled up magazine, "en garde!" He shouted and hit Chase on the head with it.

Cameron giggled while Chase tried to fight him off with a plastic knife. "Wouldn't that be romantic? Not. Oh, and Cuddy cut it kind of close with the timing. Thank goodness my passport is still valid, but what the hell am I going to pack?"

Chase stopped. "You have a closet jammed with clothes; I don't think you'll have a problem."

"Did you see this thing? I've got to have dinner dresses and formals and something called 'resort casual', what the hell is _that_?"

Chase stopped fooling around with Foreman. "It's what you would wear to a country club in the summertime." As though that explanation would help.

"I need an Oz to English translator here." Cameron complained.

"You need a rich kid to regular person translator. Screw that. Call Nordstrom and make an appointment with their personal shopper. Here, give me the phone, I'll do it for you." Within a few minutes Cameron was slated for an appointment with someone called Audrey the following day. "There, now stop worrying and start anticipating. Check this out, if you tell them what you like to drink, they'll put a bottle of it in your room for your personal use."

"Whee." She said without enthusiasm.

It took Cameron ten minutes to find the personal shopping salon. When she walked in it was like a small boutique had opened just for her. Not only were there outfits hung up attractively all over the wall, but there were belts, shoes, bags and jewelry to match. She nearly turned back around to leave when Audrey appeared. "You must be Allison. Welcome! Forgive me if this looks like a bit much, but I don't often get to pick out such cute stuff for my clients."

"I'm so sorry you went to all this trouble, I only need a few things…" Cameron was horrified; there was at least ten-thousand dollars on hangers in the wood paneled room

Audrey laughed, "You don't have to buy everything. You don't have to buy anything, I just couldn't help myself. Thanks for faxing over your itinerary, that was really helpful."

Cameron had put down her purse and was unbuttoning her blouse. "I didn't…oh, Foreman must have done that." She took a moment to really look at everything. Tragically, she loved all of it.

Audrey hung up her clothes for her, "Okay, so let's start with the things you'll need for days."

Two hours later and a few hundred dollars lighter, Cameron walked out of the store with everything she needed for the cruise. She went home and packed it in her new suitcase.

House eyed Cameron's bags as they stood in line at the airport. "What all did you pack?"

She clasped the leather case provided by the cruise line that held all of her travel documents. "It's not that much considering that I need about four changes a day. Show me your passport." She demanded, convinced that he'd do something stupid to jeopardize her trip.

"Right here, Mother." He waved it at her.

She grabbed it from him and opened it. It was nearly nine years old and the picture in it was of a much younger and more carefree House. He smiled in his picture, perhaps with pleasure at the prospect of traveling with Stacy. "It's valid."

"I know. You might find this hard to believe, but I _want_ to go on this trip. It'll be like a vacation. Sure, I've got to sit through a few boring lectures, but the State of New Jersey has its standards." He gave her a gentle shove, "That window is open."

Cameron tried to read her book as they waited at the gate for their flight. House had a magazine on his lap, but seemed too keyed up to concentrate on it. He craned his neck around, "The plane's here. We should be taking off on time. It doesn't look all that crowded."

"Uh-huh," she responded.

"So do you want the window or the aisle?" He ignored her efforts to read.

"It doesn't matter." She put her bookmark in and shut her book, "You know, things have been weird lately. And I know that weird works for you, but I really feel like we need to set some ground rules for this trip."

He sat back in his seat and looked at her askance.

"Don't give me that look, you know what I mean. We're going to be together both professionally and socially for the entire week."

"So you don't want me vetting your dates?" He rested his chin on his cane and focused his eyes on her.

"I'm not planning on having any dates. This is work."

"But there'll be moonlight and ocean breezes and exotic locales; it's just made for romance. Never say never Allison." He stared broodily at her.

"Knock it off. I know you too well. If you ever did work up the nerve to make a move on me, and that's a big if, it would probably be at the Dairy Queen on route 9. Let's just agree right now, that we're colleagues who are friendly. That way you won't be reading anything into anything and I don't have to worry about what you're worried about." She put the book into her carry-on.

"I make no promises." He said cryptically.

"Have it your way." She got up and stretched. "Hey, do we get to pre-board?"

"The one and only benefit." He said standing. "Let's go crowd the podium, they _hate _when you do that."

To accommodate House's leg they were given seats behind the bulkhead. Luckily the plane wasn't crowded so there was an empty seat between them. After take off he set up a small command center in the middle seat. A stack of magazines, a pile of candy and his iPod provided him with enough to keep him occupied from Kennedy to Rome. Cameron tried to sleep.

Three movies and two meals later, they landed at DaVinci. A representative met them at the gate and helped them claim their luggage. They were steered to the Hilton hotel which was adjacent to the airport.

"Great. Coffee, heavy cream and pulpy orange juice. Like I don't already have heartburn." House grunted as he sat at one of the tables.

"I think they have pastry. You want some?" Cameron piled her stuff on the chair next to him.

He nodded and looked around to see if he knew anyone. Thankfully, he didn't.

Cameron soon returned with a plate full of bite sized pastries and coffee. "I'd eat it, we don't get to the boat for another eight hours and we've got a tour of Rome scheduled. Who knows when you'll get another chance." She plunked it down in front of him.

He eyed her warily, "What are you going to eat?"

"I'm going to eat one of these." She picked up a flaky pastry filled with apricot.

He watched, "I may never see that again."

"Okay, that's another thing we need to get straight. I eat. I eat plenty. I don't overeat, I don't eat mindlessly. You won't see me eat three Reeses Cups and a Mars Bar," she gave him a meaningful look, "However, I do enjoy eating and upon occasion I will treat myself. I do _not_ appreciate remarks about what I do or don't eat. Okay?" She sipped her coffee.

"You are really grouchy when you don't get your sleep." He drank his coffee.

After an hour they were herded onto a bus. Cameron settled into the seat and watched out the window. It didn't look a whole lot different from the scenery on the way from the Newark airport, except for the weird little cars and the billboards in Italian. "You know, I've never been to Italy, I feel like I should be taking all of this in, but it's not that attractive."

"That's a universal truth. No road from the airport is nice." He sighed, his leg ached and the Vicodin wasn't doing a whole lot for him. "Where are we supposed to be going?"

Cameron dug into her bag, a large leather tote, one of the items from her Nordstrom spree. She hauled out the itinerary and unfolded it, "It just says 'Roman Holiday Tour'. I have no idea what that is. Frankly, I'd like a chance to have a hot shower and about twelve hours of sleep."

"What time does it say that we're boarding the boat?" He rubbed his thigh.

"Are you in pain?" She looked at him with worry.

He looked back in annoyance, "Boarding?"

"Not until after two. I guess we're stuck on this bus for the next six hours." She slumped in disappointment, it wasn't a comfortable bus.

House reached for his bottle and took another dose.

"I hope you brought a lot of those. We can't prescribe outside of the U.S." She put her document back in her bag.

"Three bottles. I think Wilson was thinking of you when he gave them to me."

The bus finally pulled up to the Coliseum. As are most structures in Europe, this one was covered in scaffolding. Although it was a building of incredible historical significance, the only thing on Cameron's mind was finding a bathroom.

House stood by while she qued up in an extensive line, "That's the problem with Europe, not enough toilets."

Finally, after half of the bus took the opportunity for a 'bio break' they had exactly twenty minutes to poke around. Nearly everyone in their party headed for the gift shop. Cameron shook her head. "What could they possible want in the gift shop?"

"Post card of the scaffold? Figurines of Christians and lions?" House suggested.

"Either I need to get sleep or I need to get drunk. Come on, let's find our guide." Cameron suggested. She was concerned, House seemed to be moving more slowly and more uncomfortably than usual.

Back on the bus for an hour and then they were in a market where Nigerian men were selling counterfeit Prada bags. Cameron poked around at them, but realized that she didn't really want a counterfeit Prada bag.

They sat down to a lunch of salad, spinach pasta and veal. All of it needed salt. House leaned over as Cameron pushed the veal away, "I think that this is the Italian version of Denny's." He poured more wine in her glass, "I believe this is what you were wanting."

It was finally time to get on the bus to go to the dock which was ninety minutes away. House tried to sleep, but his leg was throbbing. He needed a hot bath and enough Vicodin to knock him out until morning. Cameron had dozed off with her knees together and her arms folded across her chest. The bus hit a bump and she fell onto his shoulder. "I hope you don't drool." He said quietly as she slept.


	9. Spin the Bottle

Spin the Bottle

The knocking at her door continued. Cameron tried to open her eyes and realized that if she concentrated really hard that she could manage it. "I'm coming" she called and grabbed the complimentary robe at the foot of her bed so she wouldn't give whomever was on the other side of the door a heart attack. She opened it and it revealed a waiter with a tray.

"Good morning madam, would you like me to set this up on the balcony?" He entered and walked to the other side of the room. Given that it was a cruise ship stateroom, it didn't take very long. The curtains were drawn and the sun blazed in. He opened the door and laid the table for her meal.

"That seems like a lot of fuss for toast and coffee." She said, thanking the waiter on his way out. The previous night was a blur. A glass of champagne when they boarded, the lifeboat drill (she felt like a perfect idiot wearing the bulky life jacket in the cocktail lounge), dinner was positively gone. There were flickers of a really good Cote du Rhone and a fish she had never heard of, but she found that it was easier on her head if she didn't think about it all that hard.

She lifted the cover on her plate and found her toast, buttered, with an assortment of jams, jellies, and honey. There was another plate on the table containing slices of smoked salmon, capers, onion, lemon and a scoop of cream cheese. She didn't remember ordering it, but it looked delicious, so she made herself an open faced sandwich.

In the distance she could see the port, Sorrento, Italy and the volcano beyond that. The sea was calm and blue. Capri was directly ahead of her, small and rocky looking. She poured the second cup of coffee and breathed in the fresh, salty air.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" His voice startled her.

"Oh my God. I didn't even see you there." Cameron turned and saw House on his balcony next to her, eating his much larger breakfast.

"The eggs are magnificent. It's hard to find someone who really understands the boiled egg." He tapped on the shell of what appeared to be his third egg.

Cameron nodded and realized that she needed a Coke. "Hold that thought." She got up and went to the mini-bar. She reached in, passing the beer, tonic, ginger ale and bottled water, she found the Cokes, in the back. The ice bucket still held solid cubes, so she took one of the crystal glasses from the glass doored cabinet and walked back out onto the balcony. She took a long sip, "Oh yeah, that's amazing."

"Rough night?" He asked politely, sitting back with a copy of L'Unita.

"I think I was just exhausted. I only had one glass of wine. What time is it?" She had lost track somewhere along the line and there was no clock in the room.

He looked at his watch, "Just a bit after eight. We have plenty of time. The tour leaves at ten."

She swallowed, "Tour?"

"Check your itinerary; we're off to Pompeii this morning." Was it possible that he was excited?

"Right. I remember it all now. This sure is nice though, just sitting here like this. What are you reading?" She squinted at the print, "Is that in Italian?"

"We _are_ in Italy." He said matter-of-factly, "That wacky Berlusconi, what's he up to today?"

"You know Italian?"

He sighed, "I know French and Spanish, the other Romance languages just fall in behind."

"You're like Batman or something. You know everything and what _don't_ you have on your utility belt?" She poured another cup of coffee.

He chuckled, "I choose to ignore that you picked the darkest of the superheroes. So how do you come to be conversant in Comic-book Geek?"

"My husband. I still have all the boxes stored away." She stood, "I better get my act together here. What do I do with the dishes?"

"Just leave them. They'll take them away when they clean the room." He turned the page. "Knock on my door when you're ready."

Cameron put on one of her new outfits, a short denim dress and buttery soft leather sandals. She had a very small purse, just large enough to hold her room key, ID and some money. She stuck her sunglasses on the top of her head.

House whistled appreciatively. "You're looking very sophisticated."

"Uh. Thanks."

The bus bounced along a mountain road, bordered on the left by the sea. The view was gorgeous, but the ride was hot and uncomfortable. They were dropped off at the ticket booth. They were told to wait while their guide made arrangements for the entrance fee. Cameron took the opportunity to use the restroom. She gave one of three guys in uniforms a dollar (not having an opportunity to exchange any money). When she emerged House laughed. "You know that there's no charge, right?"

She shrugged "So he got a buck. It's nothing to me and it's something to him."

Their guide took them up an inauspicious ramp, Cameron noted that it was dirt and mud, "I don't know what I was expecting, but this isn't it."

"I think it's on the _other _side of the fence." House said, shuffling along with their group.

The first part of the tour was of different objects that were excavated from the site. Cameron studied the casts of the people who were killed in the eruption. All were in fetal positions. It was gruesomely interesting.

They crested a small hill and the full scope of the place became apparent. "Oh my God, it's a whole city. I thought it would be, like, four huts. I had no idea." Cameron's voice was choked with awe.

Their guide showed them bath-houses, shops, great homes and modest hovels. Streets, temples, amphitheatres. Everywhere stray dogs hung around splayed on the marble slabs trying to stay cool.

It was about two hours into the tour and while it seemed like they had only seen a small part of it, House was staring to lag behind. "Hey are you okay?"

He sat heavily on a bench and rubbed his thigh, "I just need to rest." He waited until her head was turned to open the bottle, wrestling with the cap. It fell to the ground and rolled over by a garbage can. He groaned and debated if he could just keep the pills loose in his jacket pocket.

He watched her as she approached the guide and he averted his eyes. He pretended to watch a dog walk across the lawn. He saw that she was coming back to him so he stood up slowly and decided to chase the lid after all.

She saw it and scooped it up on her way over to him. "Here, I think you lost something."

"Thanks." He put the bottle back in his pocket.

"I'm starving; thank goodness we're nearly done here. Do you suppose that we could get a pizza before we go back to the ship? I've always wondered what pizza tastes like in Italy." She waited for him to catch up as the rest of their group had moved on to the next site.

It was well after 1:00 by the time they were loaded back on the bus and on their way back to the port. They had the option to stay on the bus and go back to the dock or to disembark at the town square. Deferring to Cameron's desire to eat an Italian pizza, they opted to have lunch at a sidewalk café. House sat down at the table and ordered a scotch. "What'll you have? A glass of wine?" He asked Cameron as she looked over the menu.

"No, some water would be good." She became indecisive about the different options, they all looked so good.

House spoke to the waiter in Spanish-sounding Italian, the waiter asked House something and he turned to Cameron, "Do you want gas?" He asked her.

"Pardon?" She peered at him over the menu.

"Sparkling or still. Your water."

"Oh. Sparkling."

"_Con gas_." He related to the waiter, who walked towards the bar to fill their order. "So you're getting a pizza?"

"It all looks so good. The salad sounds phenomenal." She waved away his offer from the breadbasket.

"Tell you what, let's do a sampler. We can eat off of each other's plates." He placed his menu down on the table.

The waiter arrived and he ordered a pizza, a salad and a plate of risotto. The waiter wrote it down and asked, "And for your wife?"

Cameron blanched and House laughed, "No, that's for both of us." He said.

The waiter nodded and left to put their order in.

"So what did you think of the ruins?" She asked, putting her sunglasses on in the bright light.

"Amazing. I've read about them and I've always wanted to see them, but there's no way you can be prepared for it. It's interesting though. They've excavated them twice, and they'll probably have to do it again. The volcano's still active." He finished his scotch and smiled at the relief it gave.

"Feeling better?"

"Nothing like old scotch and a young woman. Makes you feel glad to be alive." He dared her to say anything. "So what did you think?"

"I had no idea it was so huge. It would take weeks to see it all. The bath-house was amazing, that so much of it is in tact. I loved how you could just imagine what it was like to be there then." She closed her eyes for just a moment, thinking about being the mistress of one of the manor houses. "If nothing else I wonder if I can get a 'Cave Canem' doormat."

"You want a doormat that says 'Beware of Dog' in Latin? Why? You don't have a dog."

"It's incredibly cool and funny. Plus, I like the drawing of the dog." The waiter put a small salad in front of her. "This looks fantastic." She forked up a bite. "It _is_ fantastic."

After lunch they walked around the square on their way back to the dock. Most of the stores were closed for lunch, but something caught House's eye, "Oh wait, one more treat." He held the door open for her.

Cameron looked around; there were ceramic trays behind a glass counter. All different colors with big paddles shoved in them. "Ice Cream?"

"Gelato." He immediately started reading the flavors to her, "Mint Cream, hazelnut, double chocolate, dark chocolate, Swiss chocolate, strawberry, blueberry. Hell, every damn berry you want. I'm having a double, Nutella and raspberry." He ordered his cone and waited for her to decide.

The girl behind the counter handed it to him and asked, "For your wife?"

"I'm not…" Cameron started.

"Honey, come on, what kind of gelato do you want?" He teased.

"Well _dear_, dulce de leche is caramel, right? I'll have that. In a cup. Not too much." She smiled at the girl behind the counter.

They sat on a bench and ate. Cameron dipped her spoon into the paper cup and savored the last bite. "Is all the food in Europe this good? It's like…exponentially more delicious." She threw the cup away in the can next to the bench.

"Yes, except of course in Britain." He looked at his watch, "Let's get back, I want to get a good seat for the lecture."

It turned out the House's idea of a good seat for the lecture was in the back so he could nap. The seminars were held in the ship's theater, so it was dark and cool, with soft, comfortable chairs. Cameron knew that the morning's activities had taxed him and resolved to wake him only if he started snoring.

The seminar ended with enough time to change for cocktails before dinner. They made their way back to their cabins when Cameron ran into Dr. Weston.

"Allison! I thought it might be you. So how's everything?" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

His wife, a tall, thin woman with platinum blond hair and about five-thousand dollars worth of plastic parts, seemed to resent this.

"I'm fine, this is Greg House. Dr. House, this is Charles Weston, I worked with him at Cedars. This is his wife…" She strained to remember her name, she thought it was Mindy, but that might have been the other one.

"Angie. So Allison, what are you doing now?" He asked, knowing full well that she had a fellowship. "This little girl was the darling of our department at Cedars. She broke a lot of hearts when she left."

Allison winced in pain, or it might have been an attempt at a smile, "Oh now…"

"Hearts? That's interesting because at our shop she just breaks balls."

Weston seemed confused, "Well, we've got to be…"

House took advantage of an opportunity to escape. "We were just on our way to cocktails ourselves, I trust we'll see you later?" He wasn't taking any chances that this clown would detain him any longer.

"Absolutely, look me up in the bar. It's Chivas PRN for the rest of the evening." Weston guffawed as his wife tittered.

They were almost out of earshot before House asked, "Christ, Cameron, how did you put up with that ass?"

At dinner they were seated at a large table with an allergist from Scottsdale and his wife.

House made small talk but by dessert he had grown bored with the doctor's relentless description of his practice.

"You know, people used to move to Arizona if they had asthma or bad allergies, but we've got terrible pollution and with the non-native plants, we're getting high pollen counts as well." He cracked the top of his crème brulee.

His wife elegantly stirred her coffee with a jewel encrusted hand, "Thank goodness!" She laughed.

"Yes, it's a good life. I golf twice a week all year-round. The kids love it, they live in the pool. You and the wife," he indicated Cameron, "should come out some time, see what it's all about." He took an enormous bite of his custard.

Cameron was anxious to get out of there before House said something. She stood, "Please excuse us; it's been a long day."

"Hey, aren't you staying for the show?" The wife asked. "It's a Tribute to Broadway."

House stood with her, "You know how it is with these youngsters."

The allergist winked, "sleep well."

Cameron fumed all the way to her cabin. She tried to get into her room in enough time to slam the door on him, but the card-key wouldn't cooperate.

House took it from her and turned it around. The lights glowed green so he turned the handled for her, "Open sesame." He realized that she was still angry, "So, are you going to watch 'The Aviator' or that chick flick?"

"House, why do you…do that?" She wasn't sure why she was annoyed, all she knew was that she was.

"Are you going to keep explaining to people that we aren't a couple? Why? What do you care? You'll never see any of these idiots again, and even if you do, so what?"

She saw the humor in it and laughed, "You're right. You want to come in for a minute?" She walked in. The bed had been turned down and a fresh bowl of fruit was on the coffee table.

He walked in and noted that unlike his cabin, that hers was neat and tidy. All of her personal items were stowed on the teak shelving that cleverly adorned every wall of the room. He turned on the TV and flipped the channels while she ducked into the closet to change. The TV got a couple of local channels, the Italian version of Big Brother, CNN International and BBC. He found one of the closed circuit channels and put it on there. He opened the fridge and helped himself to a bottle of water. He sat on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.

She came out of the closet in her PJ bottoms, a cotton top and the terry cloth robe. "Make yourself at home." She sat on the bed and reached into the drawer for her hand cream.

"I already did."

She leaned back in the bed "Is that Sandra Bullock?"

"How would I know? It's some girl and there's some other girl and they're doing girl-things. Chick flick." He motioned towards the TV. "Hey, check this out." He picked up a bottle that had been left on the console. "Limoncello."

"What's that?" The glass of wine she had with dinner suddenly caught up with her and she was feeling disconnected from herself, her hands tingled.

"Lemon liqueur. Tart and tangy, but sweet too. Like someone I know." He sat back down and put the bottle on the marble topped coffee table and feeling the balance of it spun it. It wobbled a bit and came to rest pointing at the bed. "Are you playing?"

It took her a minute to understand what he was getting at. "Are you?"

He got up and walked around the sofa and knelt down beside her bed. They looked at each other. Cameron shifted so that she could look into his eyes. "Don't say anything stupid." They said simultaneously. Cameron dissolved into giggles and House smiled and kissed her.

She relaxed back on her pillow wondering what would happen next. She stared up at the ceiling. He stayed where he was, analyzing the moment. "Cherries?"

"Lip gloss." She explained. Suddenly she wanted a lot more than just the taste he gave her. She also knew that it might spoil everything. She closed her eyes and reached around him for the remote control. She turned off the television and waited.

"It's quiet." He said, listening to her breath.

"Quiet is good." She reached behind her and hit one of the light switches. The lights in the room went out except for the reading lamp by the bed.

"It's dark."

"It's night." Cameron felt like the world was spinning. The boat's gentle rocking as they moved toward their next destination made her feel off-balance. Or was that his kiss?

"Your turn." He said simply.

"What?" She had grown lightheaded.

"Your turn. The game." He reminded her.

"Ah, the game." She sat up slightly and leaned towards him, putting her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. She kissed him, feeling his arms wrap around her.

He clung to her for just a moment, inhaling her fragrance of lilies and tuber roses. "Tomorrow we're playing Post Office."


	10. The Poseidon Adventure

Cameron couldn't sleep. It might have been the choppy sea, or it might have been how dazzled she was by the events of the previous night. House kissed her. She kissed House. Nothing was ever going to be the same. It was terrifying.

At four she gave up and went to the gym. She ran hard, hoping the physical exhaustion would help her clear her mind. When she returned to the room, she showered and ordered breakfast. She watched the sun rise over Sardinia. From the balcony it looked pink, both with stucco and bougainvillea.

At seven breakfast arrived. She ignored it for a while, enjoying the solitude of early morning. Finally, she realized that she was hungry and she lifted the cover. Her order of toast and coffee was there, as well as a plate with a thick slice of brie and three seckel pears. She knew that she didn't order it, but it was welcome none the less. _They think of everything._

Finally she felt like she could sleep. She remembered seeing House's newspaper, today an International Herald-Tribune. She wrote him a brief note and stuck it on top of it.

_I'll meet you at reception at one for lunch. Ali_

House saw her dishes on the balcony and figured that she was already up and out. He read her note. The shore excursions were either golf or shopping. He didn't think that either were her cup of tea, but it was a vacation of sorts, who knows what she found to amuse herself. He was glad for the respite because he had no idea what to do next. He needed counsel and he was thousands of miles away from the only person who could give it to him. He looked at his watch. It was 2:00 AM in New Jersey.

The first tender to shore left at ten. House was the first one on board. "Are you golfing today?" Asked the Cruise Director.

"No, what I really need is to get to a phone." He implored with his eyes. "What do you suggest?"

She smiled, "No problem. At the dock there's a small shopping center. There's a newsstand on the bottom level, they sell phone cards. I think there might be a phone at the supermarket."

"Thanks." He allowed the crewman to help him into the boat and within five minutes he was wandering around what could have a ubiquitous mall anywhere. It was small, but not too small to have a Tommy Hilfiger store and a Benetton. Already the place was crawling with women who wanted nothing more than to have an outfit about which she could say, "This? Oh, I got this at the cutest store in Sardinia."

He found the newsstand and in addition to the phone card he bought some magazines and a London Times. A short climb up some stairs revealed a small supermarket of the sort one might see in a European resort town. The phone was directly in front of the store and all he had to do was slide the card in the slot and dial. Soon he heard the ringing of a phone on the other end.

"Wilson," he long ago had learned that if the phone was ringing before dawn, that it was for him. Julie grumbled and rolled over.

"James, it's Greg. Sorry to wake you."

Wilson sat up, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I need your advice." He shifted his weight and tucked the handset under his chin.

Wilson had moved into the hall and sat down at the top of the stairs. "Okay, I'm here. What do you need?"

"I kissed Cameron. She kissed me. Now what?" He felt like a fool, but he was completely out of his depth.

"Ask her to move in with you?" Wilson suggested.

"I don't think you're grasping the subtle intricacies of the situation."

"And I don't think that you're grasping the fact that it's not even five in the morning here." Wilson moved aside so that the dog could get past him.

"I owe you." House agreed.

"You owe me big. So you guys kissed? Is that all? Gee, if you take her to the drive-in, do you think she'll let you get to second?" He teased.

"You're missing the point. There's no half-way with her. She's probably planning our wedding right now."

"Can I be best man?" Wilson tried to take him seriously, but it was impossible.

"You can be ring bearer. Please? You understand women." House shifted ears.

"So what do you want? I don't think you need me to tell you how to get her naked." The dog looked at him expectantly from the foot of the stairs, so he got up to let him out.

"It's all going so fast. How do we go from nothing to wherever we are now? I want to be able to test the water. I want to separate work from romance. I want to be able to stand next to her without feeling like I'm a twelve-year-old with a boner in math class."

"Wow, you've got it bad. Have you tried talking to her? Maybe she's just as freaked out as you are." Wilson stood at the kitchen door and watched as a streak of pink appeared on the horizon.

"I don't think so. Haven't you noticed? She's confident now. For Christ's sake she has three boyfriends. No, she knows exactly what she's doing." If Wilson couldn't come through for him, he might actually have to tell the truth.

"Did you at least see the koala?"

Cameron woke at around eleven feeling much better, if not entirely refreshed. She poured a Coke and tried to form a plan for the day. At one she'd have to see House. Even something as small as kissing House made her tingle all over. She felt like she lost forty IQ points overnight. What she needed was solid advice. She needed to talk to Foreman. She threw on a batik print skirt and a tank top and went took the tender to the shore.

On the dock stood woman with a clipboard, "Welcome to Sardinia."

Cameron pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, "I need to make a phone call to the United States, where can I do that?"

The woman turned around and pointed to a group of shops, "the newsstand sells phone cards."

Cameron found the public phone outside the supermarket. After a couple of false starts she got a dial tone and figured out how to dial New Jersey. The phone only rang once, "Foreman."

"Eric, it's Allison. Did I wake you?"

"No, I just got back from the gym. So how's the cruise? What have you seen so far?" He had just poured the milk on his Frosted Flakes so he held the mouthpiece up in the air while he chewed.

"It's amazing. Gorgeous. I can't wait to show you the pictures. I kissed House." She waited for the explosion.

Foreman swallowed and took a sip of coffee. "You kissed House? Why?"

"Well, he kissed me first. It started out as a game and now…"

"You were never playing a game. So what's the problem? Isn't this what you wanted? Are you going to name your first child after me? You can call her Erica if it's a girl." He sipped more coffee.

"I can't think straight. Everything is upside-down. I can't sleep. I'm scared to see him again. What if he pretends that nothing happened? What if he thinks it was a huge mistake?" She noticed that there was a chip in her manicure.

"Calm down. Damn, don't call me after you sleep with him. How drunk was he?" Eric decided not to drink the milk out of the bowl; the slurping would be too loud.

"He wasn't drunk."

"How high was he?" Eric leafed through a two-month-old copy of Men's Health.

"He wasn't high. We were just sitting in my room after dinner and it happened." She saw a woman come out of the supermarket with three bottles of champagne; suddenly she had an incredible urge for a Kir Royale.

"And that's all that happened? You kissed? Then he left and slept in his own bed?" He got to the page in the fashion editorial that he had dog-eared. He had always wanted a leather jacket like that.

"Should I have jumped on him? Did I blow my chance? Don't answer that. I sound like an idiot."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. House is not the kind of guy you jump on. You're fine. Just stay cool." Foreman had moved into the closet, he pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt. He opened a drawer to get a tie.

"I'm meeting him in a half-hour. What do I do? What do I say? How do I act?" Cameron smiled at a guy who was obviously checking her out. Then she turned towards the phone.

"Simple. Act like you're going out on a second date. Last night was your first date." He wished that she'd get some girlfriends.

"Technically it was our second." She reminded him.

"Do you really want the first one to count?" He pulled off his shoes in preparation for getting showered.

"Actually, if you count the monster truck thing, it was our third date." She was in stream of consciousness mode now.

"Do you know how crazy you sound? You need to do two things. The first is calm down. The second is masturbate."

"ERIC!" She shrieked.

"Oh come on, that's not the first time you've heard that. Guys do it all the time. Take the edge off. You are so torqued up right now that you're going to come across as a stalker instead of the mother of his children. Where are you anyway?" He needed to get her off the phone or else he was going to be late to work.

"I'm at some supermarket in Italy." She needed to get going if she was going to meet House on time.

"Okay, I'm going to let you go. It's time to leave the nest. House is just a guy. You are a hot, sexy woman. Remember that." He waited.

"You're right. Thank you for letting me babble at you. I'll bring you back something nice. I've got to catch the next tender back to the boat. Bye!" She hung up and nearly skipped back to the dock.

Foreman stepped into the shower shaking his head, "House doesn't stand a chance."

House sat in a chair just to the right of the reception desk. His right hand was on the handle of his cane. His left hand was obscured by the curve of the chair. He watched as couples paraded back and forth from the elevators to various parts of the ship. It wasn't quite one, but he had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that after everything that had happened that she might have packed up and tried to catch a flight home, rather than deal with the inevitable awkwardness.

She lit up like Christmas when she saw him. Compared to the shrink-wrapped women on the ship she had a fresh-faced beauty that they couldn't even appreciate, let alone duplicate. It looked as though she got some color too; her shoulders were red from the sun.

He stood up and offered her a bouquet of spring flowers. "It's nice to see you."

She smiled and the tension in her face faded. "Oh. Thank you, they're beautiful." They stood smiling at each other. Cameron licked her lips, "So we're just going with this then?"

"Works for me." He replied, "Hungry?"

"Can we get a drink first? I've got the biggest craving for champagne." She steered him towards the lounge.

It was deserted, save for the bartender. House sipped scotch and she watched the bubbles in her glass. The bartender had put her flowers in a highball glass and set them on the table next to the piano.

House stood and opened it. "Is it okay for me to…?" he indicated the keys. The bartender nodded and continued to chop fruit garnishes.

He sat down and closed his eyes. Soon Cole Porter's _I Get a Kick Out of You_ played. Cameron blushed and sipped her drink. When he finished he moved on to Roger's and Hart's _Where or When_. He was about to do another when he realized that they needed to be in a seminar in an hour.

He drained his glass and stood, "Come on. Let's see what kind of Reuben sandwich they make on this tub."

She laughed, "You aren't really…"

"I never know what I'm going to do until I do it. I'm madcap that way." He grabbed her flowers off the table and gave them to the bartender. "See that these get to her cabin." He gave him the number and a five dollar bill.

"That was very smooth." She said as they walked towards the restaurant.

"The piano or the other thing?" They were seated at a window facing open water.

"Both. Actually…everything you've done so far has been smooth. You haven't been grumpy or crabby this whole time. And you've had reason to be." She thought back to the people at the seminar, the ship was full of awful people. Smug, suburban couples with more money than sense.

"Oh, I'm normally a wooly baa-lamb. It's Chase. He puts me in a bad mood." They reached the restaurant and were seated out on the deck. A soft breeze blew and ruffled the tablecloth.

She ignored him. "This sunshine is delicious." Cameron leaned back and turned her face up to the light.

The sun shone on her and created a halo. He looked over at the table next to him and two women were discussing their morning's shopping. "I could have got it at the Paramus Mall, but I figured, I'm here, it's here, I want it, so what the hell?" He looked away. The contrast was too stark.

She leaned in, so as not to be overheard, "Still think I'd make a better doctor's wife than a doctor?"

"You know, if we're going to date, you're going to have to work on your memory." He turned his attention to the menu.

"Date? Memory?" She skipped over the first idea, "Do you deny that you told me once that I must be damaged because I was beautiful enough not to have to go to medical school?"

"That's my point. You're going to have to forget some of the things I've said to you. In cases like this a good memory is unforgivable." He took a sip of water.

"So we're dating?" She finished off her drink and played with the lemon twist.

"Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?"

"You know I am." She replied.

"Just don't tell Cuddy. She'll be in a jealous rage." He placed his order with the waiter. He settled for a cheeseburger.

"So what's the deal there? Foreman thinks you were once lovers." She ordered a Shrimp Louis.

"Foreman has no imagination. Cuddy has actually been involved with Adams for years." He toyed with a breadstick.

"Adams? Isn't he that guy in Radiology? Isn't he like, a hundred years-old?" She shook her head, "You're avoiding the question. But it's none of my business. So if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."

"One of these days, if we're still speaking after this cruise, we'll sit down and disclose everything about our past. I'll tell you about my fraternity days, you'll tell me about that stint you did in prison. We'll sit by the fire and bore each other long into the night with our war stories. Failed love. Tragic love. All of it. The unabridged version. But let's save that for when we're really desperate for conversation. Right now I could just look at you and not say anything." To prove his point he focused his eyes on her face.

"One of these days you'll take me seriously." She stared right back at him.

"You're already as serious as death eating crackers."

The afternoon session ran long and most people didn't start dinner until well after eight. House bribed the maitre'd and got them a table alone, away from the rest of the diners. It was nearly midnight when they got back to the cabin.

Cameron paused at her door and asked, "Are you coming in?"

He didn't say anything; he just walked through the door. She took a moment to kick off her shoes. She had changed into a short cotton sundress for dinner. The bed had been turned down and more chocolate had been left for her on the pillow. She put it in a stack on the nightstand, with the other pillow chocolates from previous nights.

She patted the place next to her on the bed for him to sit.

House leaned back and accidentally turned off all the lights. "I can't see anything."

"Do you need to see something?" She slid her hand along his thigh and kissed him on the cheek.

"Actually, I'd like to see that koala."

"Let's start with _feeling_ the koala."


	11. Far From the Madding Crowd

Cameron finally had a good night's sleep. The seas were calm and she felt more secure about her relationship with House. There would be plenty of time to define what that relationship was, but for now it was enough that she knew that he wasn't running from her any more.

She arrived from the gym in time for her breakfast to be delivered. It was getting to be a game, to see what extra tidbit would be on there for her. Toast and coffee were as they always were. A dish of figs and a bowl of yogurt accompanied her usual. A sachet of honey rested against the base of the footed bowl as well as a few tablespoons of muesli, for crunch. A suggestion that was too inviting not to try.

She smiled as she heard the door open on the balcony next to her. "This tray was prepared with love." She said to him as she stirred in the honey.

He sipped his coffee. "I see you were up with the lark this morning. How is he?"

"The lark? Quite well thank you. House, I'm serious, what is with the food here?" The yogurt was a revelation.

He dipped a toast point into his eggs. "So many things are different in Europe. Did you know that it would never occur to the French to put cheese in the refrigerator? They believe that it's alive. Like a cat. Fruit either. You don't pick it out, the vendor does. You go to a market on Wednesday or on Saturday and walk around. You tell the vendor what you want and they ask when you're going to eat it. They pick out the exact thing that you want and it's guaranteed to be perfectly ripe for the upcoming meal. Don't get me started on chickens or fish."

"And yet you eat old, dry, lukewarm Rueben sandwiches?" She stopped scraping the last of the yogurt out of the bowl, "you are such a contradiction."

"That's my favorite thing about me. What's your favorite thing about me?" He spooned the last of egg number one into his mouth and then set to tapping on egg number two.

"Your modesty." Cameron gazed out at the shore, St. Tropez. She thought about suntan lotion. "So today is the tour of provincial wineries."

He winced, "Yes, we take a motor-coach…"

"You mean uncomfortable bus." She corrected.

"No, it says motor-coach. I think they mean motor-coach." He sipped his orange juice. "As I was saying, a motor-coach takes us to the heart of Provence. We stop at the village of…_chateau sur merde_ or something French sounding like that…where we may stroll along the quaint streets and shop or enjoy a simple repast at a sidewalk café."

"Wait. So we're on a bus with these vile people. We bounce over country roads to get to some tourist trap where we drink wine and then we get dumped off at some little town to eat over-priced food and to watch all these idiots pay three times as much for the same stuff they could buy at their local Galleria? I have an idea." She leaned over.

He met her half-way, "I'm guessing that it has to do with our shore excursion."

"Would you be terribly disappointed if we bailed on the tour? I stopped by the library and grabbed some DVDs. We could watch television together this morning and then we could just poke around the town later this afternoon. I really can't stand the thought of spending the whole day on a bus." She handed him a fruit from her tray as a bribe, "I'll give you this fig."

"Am I to understand that you don't want to go on the provincial wine tour? But when will you ever get back here again? Aren't you afraid that you'll be missing something?" He took the fig from her and bit into it.

"No matter what I choose I'll be missing something. There's only so much you can see and frankly it's all starting to run together anyway. I'm exhausted. Let's rest this morning, have a brief adventure ashore and then come back early."

He pretended to consider it. "On one condition. You have to show me the koala. Right now, no hesitation."

She stood, "You'll see my ass soon enough. You just sit there and read your paper, which one is it today?" He showed her La Monde and the Financial Times. "If you simply burn to go on the trip, I'll see you later tonight. If you want to hang around with me this morning. I'll see you in about thirty minutes." She went into her cabin.

House bit into his bacon, "Damn independence."

After her shower, Cameron slipped on her yoga pants and a T-shirt; her official hanging out uniform. She left the balcony door open and let the cool breeze blow in. House knocked at her door just as she was cueing up the DVD she had selected. _The Bandwagon_.

House scrutinized the cover. "Why did you pick this?"

"Well, if I was by myself I'd probably watch something like _Sense and Sensibility_ or _Legally Blonde_. I figure you'd gnaw your arm off to get away from something like that. And while I like action movies, I'm really not in the mood right now. So I got a classic. If you don't want that one, we can watch _The Maltese Falcon_." She directed his attention to a stack of at least twenty DVDs.

"But what will the other passengers do?"

She shrugged, "Not my problem."

Cameron curled up in the bed and when it got chilly, she got under the duvet. "This is heaven." She sighed.

"I could close the door," House offered.

"No. I like this. Are you comfortable?" She wiggled her toes and rubbed her feet together.

He casually connected with her by using her shoulder as a chin rest. "I'm fine."

"Are you humming?" She asked as Fred Astaire danced on the screen.

"I might be. Does it bother you?"

"No. But it's interesting. You seem…familiar with the movie." She looked at him suspiciously.

"In the early seventies, when you were an embryo, there was a movie called _That's Entertainment_. My parents dragged me to it every Saturday for four months. Most of the musical numbers in this movie are showcased in that one. If I really wanted to show off, I could sing along." He demonstrated, "_You and the night and the music_…Oh, wait, check this out, this is one of the best transition scenes in the history of cinema," he recited. "My Dad said that every single time we watched this. Now I'm condemned to repeat the same thing. I'll probably bore my kids with it too."

"You want kids?"

He sighed, "You know, I'm giving you a window into my childhood, I'm telling you something about my past and what do you hone in on? An offhand remark about theoretical progeny. You know, that's the kind of thing that scares the fellas off." He lowered his voice and told her conspiratorially, "It makes you seem desperate."

"Are you scared off?" She didn't even face him.

He remained quiet, "not really. If I were going to be scared off I'd have been long gone by now."

"I'm glad you came back for me. I've never told you, but I am." She shifted slightly to look at him. Typically, he didn't say anything, at least not in words, but his face told the story. She kissed his hand, which had wandered somewhere near her waist.

At noon, after two old movies, they were ready to take on the day. A short walk from the dock and they were in a market square in St. Tropez. Small shops all painted with various colors ringed a small park filled with vendors. Cameron was delighted, "It's a market!"

"Apparently so. I'm guessing that you'll want to wander around and look at everything?" He sat down on a bench next to an elderly gentleman reading _Paris Match_.

"Yes, and I might even buy something. I promised the boys I'd bring them presents back. I got Chase a rosary in Rome, but I don't have anything for Foreman." She reviewed the booths to decide where to start.

"You, an atheist, bought a rosary for a lapsed Catholic? And I thought I was a mass of contradictions. Have fun. I'm going to the newsstand." He nodded at the gentleman sitting next to him, "_save my place_," he said in French.

The gentleman nodded at him, "_Your wife, she's very beautiful; I see why you act like a leek._"

Cameron wore a puzzled expression on her face, House chuckled, "He said that you were so beautiful that it's worth the wait."

"Oh, thanks." She said, rather embarrassed.

Cameron wandered off towards a lady selling lace blouses. House walked across the street and bought a local newspaper and a chocolate bar. The day was cool and breezy and it was comfortable to sit on the bench, eating good chocolate and reading provincial news in French. It reminded him of his semester abroad. Although a small town on the Riviera wasn't exactly the same as the Left Bank of Paris.

Cameron didn't impose on his patience long. It was late in the market day and the vendors were packing up after a busy Saturday. She was able to purchase typical products of the region, lavender, soaps, and fabrics. She also found a couple of things for herself. She dumped her haul on the bench next to House and proceeded to sort through it. "The Euro is awesome. I changed money in Italy and I can use it everywhere. Can you imagine having to change dollars to lire to francs to marks? What a pain!"

"There's no romance in a Euro." House commented.

"That's a funny thing to be sentimental about." She commented. "Hey, I need something at the drug store; can you watch my stuff for a minute?"

"Sure, why not?" He sat and folded his paper watching her walk across the street.

She came back within a few minutes and they walked down the street back towards the dock. "Hey, wait a minute. I want some fries." House pointed at a small food stand. "Do you want any?"

Cameron had seen a pastry shop that she thought bore further research, but he had been a good sport about her shopping so she capitulated, "Fries sound good. Hey, do we ask for French Fries in France?"

"No, I thought I'd be an asshole and order Freedom Fries." He noted the expression on her face, "Don't worry. It's just _frites_, fries."

There was a short line which gave her time to study the menu, "So this stand only sells fries, but there are at least twenty different sauces you can get?"

He shrugged, "They're catering to an international clientele. Ever had them with mayonnaise?"

"That's disgusting." She commented. She wondered if it would be too American to order them with ketchup. She wondered if they had Heinz.

"Belgians would disagree. Personally, I like them salty and vinegary." He proclaimed, stepping up to place his order, "So what have you decided?"

"Ketchup and a diet coke please." The woman behind the counter nodded.

They sat on a cement bench and watched as people walked around the now quiet square. "So what did you get at the drug store?" House asked, eating his fries with the little red, plastic prong provided.

"That's an interesting and personal question. Why do you want to know?" Cameron put the prong aside and used her fingers, licking the salt off of them after each bite.

"If you got tampons, then I've got to get a strategy, and if you got condoms, then I don't have to worry, you've got your own strategy." He picked up her can and took a sip of her drink, "That's not bad for diet."

"And if I got this?" She made him hold her container of fries and dug into her bags. She produced a bottle of high-end botanical bath oil.

"Oh." He seemed embarrassed, disappointed and mostly relieved.

"If you're nice to me, I'll share. It has juniper in it, good for sore muscles." She put it back.

There was a silence between them, the trees rustled and a poodle in the park barked at birds. "Faux pas." He said simply.

"It is a bit weird still." She admitted, "But it's mostly nice, so I can take the rough with the smooth."

He laughed at himself, "Jumping the gun am I?"

"You're not a sport-fuck." She said simply.

"_Excuse me_?" He was well and truly shocked.

"So what's so terrible, that I cursed or that I've been with other men?" She pronged another fry and grinned while she chewed.

"I don't know what to say. I'm speechless." He crumpled up his cardboard carton and threw it in the iron garbage can.

"Look at the bright-side. At least you don't have all that angst about being the first guy after my husband."

He took another slug of her soda. "You've got a point."

"So what's _your_ deal? Chase is convinced that you use call-girls. I think you're one of those guys who has to be in love." She handed him her half-eaten container and he pitched it into the can as well.

He took a deep breath, "I suppose it would be pointless to say that your question is completely over the line."

"Yes, it would be pointless. You cross the line all the time. You cross the line and then dance on it. So to speak." She got up, "Let's walk and talk, I'm ready to take a nap."

"You're a sleepyhead all of a sudden."

"True, but that's what happens, jet lag and total relaxation after long periods of stress increase the need for sleep. So do you want to change the subject?" She touched him gently on the arm.

"No, I'll answer. I was just stalling for time." He marshaled his thoughts. "I haven't been with anyone since Stacy."

"I was right." She said simply.

"You're right a lot. You just don't have the confidence of your convictions yet. I guess I don't understand why anyone would want to be with someone they didn't love. The difference is…again, I have no words."

"Oh, I totally agree with you. Being with someone when you're in love, there's no comparison. But sometimes it's fun just to be with someone you like. There's just one problem." They were within range of the dock and the tender was nowhere to be seen.

"Only one?" He sat on the bench to wait for the boat.

"Well, one major one. Usually one of the people involved has more at stake than the other. That's how you end up breaking hearts." She reflected guiltily on recent events.

"So I'm guessing that you don't have any boyfriends right now?" He toyed with her fingers as she stared out at the ocean.

"No. No boyfriends." She turned to him, "I can't really think of you as a boyfriend. You're more important."

"Allison, I don't know if I can live up to your expectations. I want to, but I am human after all. And really, really flawed." He took out his bottle.

"So how did we get all the way here? We were having fun."

"You knew I was a buzz kill from the beginning." He saw the small boat moving towards them and stood to walk towards it.

"You knew I was an optimist from the beginning." It was a challenge.

"Oscar Wilde said that second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience." He picked up the gauntlet.

She leaned in, as though to let him in on a secret, "You know speaking of marriage like that scares girls off. It makes you seem desperate."


	12. Castles in the Air

Castles in the Air

House looked up at the 337 stairs of the cathedral in Palma Majorca. Then he looked into Cameron's face, "Go ahead with the rest of the group. I'll be fine here." He looked over to the guy who had copper makeup to match his copper clothing, doing an impersonation of a statue.

Cameron bit her lip, "I'll stay with you."

He huffed, "I insist. I've seen at least a dozen cathedrals in my life. This one looks really interesting. Go, catch up with Mario and the group. You can come back and tell me all about it."

"I'm not a child. If I want to stay here with you, then you'll just have to deal." She sat down on the cement bench with him. Their guide looked at them, waiting for a decision so that he could frog-march the group through the cathedral in enough time to see Valledomosa as well.

"Cameron, you're making me angry. Trust me, this is a place that you're only going to get one-shot at. You're here today. The cathedral is here today. Get up off that amazing ass of yours and go look at it. I think there's a holy relic in there. John the Baptist's halo or something." He put his hand on her shoulder, "You have to acknowledge that there are some things I can't do. That doesn't mean that you can't do them. Please. If you don't see it because of me, then I'll feel terrible."

She was torn. If he had to miss out, then she didn't want to see it either, except that it was beautiful and intriguing. "I know you're manipulating me."

"Is it working?" He stared off towards the sea. The day was bright and sunny, the water deep turquoise, combined with the sandstone buildings it made a gorgeous post-card.

"No, but I'm going anyway." She stood up and started the climb.

House smiled. A victory. Small, but important. The group was gone for about 45 minutes. When they returned he and Cameron lined up to get back on yet another bus. A representative of the cruise had come along to insure that all of her charges were accounted for. "It's a shame you couldn't have seen it Dr. House, it was beautiful." She chimed, as though it was a choice, not a necessity.

He was about to say something when Cameron cut him off, "You know, in the future, you might want to let people who might have physical limitations know what to expect. Imagine coming all this way and not being _allowed_ to see it." Cameron glared at her, holding eye contact a few seconds longer than necessary to make her point.

The woman cowered and mumbled something before resuming her count. House sat in his seat next to her. Two women sat across the aisle from him clutching bags from the gift shop. "Do you think we'll have a chance to do some shopping? I understand that the pearls here are amazing." The one asked the other.

Cameron leaned over, still steamed from the insensitive remarks. "Jesus, is there any place they _won't _shop? I think that they'd buy condoms in the restroom, if that was their only option."

"Miffed much?" House commented.

"I just makes me so _mad_!" She said, squeezing his arm, "Do you think they'd let the guy with the cane know that the tour is…contra-indicated? No. Let's bring him along and tease him, you can look, but you can't go in. Then we've got these…_consumers_ who are just looking at this as an opportunity to buy more crap they don't need to fill an emptiness they can't describe. The whole thing is sick." She took a gulp of water from her bottle. "No wonder you're so grumpy all the time."

"Calm down. You're scaring our guide." He indicated the pleasant, white-haired man who pretended not to understand her rant. "It's a different culture. You certainly do take the ADA for granted though."

"I never gave it any thought." She admitted, "Until now."

"That's as it should be. You're young and healthy; you should be carefree and thoughtless. God knows I was. I have to say though, I really like elevators. Although how would you retro-fit an elevator in a beautiful old church like that?"

She pondered that, "I have no idea. Tunnel underneath and have it come up some, old, forgotten servant's passage or something?"

"No, some things need to remain unspoiled. There are enough pleasures in the world for me to enjoy that I'm not going to pine after what I can't have." He said philosophically.

"Are you kidding? You? You've been pining for the last six years over things you can't have." She laughed.

"Okay, maybe this is my _new_ motto." He stared out the window as they made their way up a lush, green mountain. "Pain in the ass."

In Valledemosa they walked through centuries old streets. It was a quiet, mountain town, shaded by olive trees and dominated by an ancient church. Their guide took them through narrow streets, pointing out the plaques of the patron saint of the village. The ladies ooh'd and ah'd over the charming architecture, but they craned around for a retail opportunity. "Mario? What would be a good thing to buy from this region?" They asked.

Cameron whispered into House's ear, "Condoms. I'm telling you."

As they came back into Palma, the guide gave them an opportunity to get off in the shopping district, again typified by a Benetton and hundreds of outlets for buying Majorcan pearls.

As people pushed their way off the bus, House and Cameron waited for the crowd to disperse onto the high street. "So, want to check these pearls out?" He asked.

"Not really." She said, sitting back in her seat.

"No? Not even as a present from me?" He said it quietly, embarrassed by his status as a prospective bestower of jewels.

"It's a lovely thought, but would you be buying pearls for me if we weren't here?" She said, "Let's just go back to the ship."

"Okay. If that's the way you feel." He sat back and sulked.

"Don't pout. You don't have to buy me a present. You certainly don't have to buy me one in a tourist trap."

"It was a generous impulse." He explained.

She kissed him on the cheek, "And I appreciate it."

Later in the show lounge House sat expectantly waiting for the curtain to rise. Cameron held the program and drank a Baileys and coffee with a giant blob of whipped cream on it.

"How is that?" House shuddered at the sweet drink and took a sip of his scotch.

"Mmmmm." She replied.

"Needs and umbrella or a cherry or something." He commented. "So they flew these guys in just for tonight?" He had a far away look in his eye.

"From La Scala it says here." She showed him the program.

"So they're going to be really good." He shifted in the chair in anticipation.

The cruise director came out and gushed effusively and introduced The Three Tenors. They weren't the original Three Tenors, but they were respectable members of the franchise.

House hung onto the edge of his seat. They sang popular operatic pieces, things most people only heard in commercials. They sang old standards with an operatic bent. At one point House's eyes closed and he became transported by the melodies and harmonies blending together.

Cameron saw how much he enjoyed it and tried to pay better attention. She looked around. Some people talked, ordered more drinks and checked their watches waiting for the casino to open. She knew that when they got home they'd all brag about how wonderful the Tenors were without having any idea of what they were listening to.

He reached for her hand, as though wanting to share his joy in the music transdermally. She smiled and squeezed his fingers. Not wanting to say anything that would distract him.

After their encore, he sat reflecting while the rest of the audience rushed to get to the duty-free store or the blackjack tables. "Do you want to go play the slots or something?" He asked, realizing that the concert might not have been her cup of tea.

"No. I might have to say something cordial to these Philistines and I'm in a really good mood right now." She looped her arm through his as they walked back to their cabins.

"So what did you think?" He asked.

"I didn't enjoy it as much as you did, but I don't think that there was any way that I could have." They waited for the elevator.

Dr. Weston and Angie approached them. "Hey! Dr. House, Allison! Where've you been hiding yourselves?" The leer was implied.

Angie was dripping in pearls. Bracelet, rings, a long necklace. She looked like a little girl who had been playing in her mother's jewelry box. "Didn't you love the cathedral? And the pearls! Well, I guess I was a good girl." She giggled, "I'm going to play the slots and spend some more of my husband's money."

"Wow, all three strikes." Cameron remarked, then she laughed and turned to House, "Hey, you're rubbing off on me."

"It was bound to happen." He said, "Hey, look, here's our elevator now. Come on, we don't want to keep the Westons from their amusements." He steered her in and pressed the button. "They deserve each other."

"That's a creepy thought. House, do you think that people think that we deserve each other?" She held the door open for him as it opened on their floor.

"Well we do, don't we?" He thought about it, "Actually, no. I don't deserve you at all. And you've never done anything to deserve a misanthropic jerk like me. Seriously Allison, why do you want to be with me?"

She opened her door and went in. "I don't know." She said airily, ducking into the closet to change.

"You know. Tell me." He sat on the foot of the bed.

She sat next to him, "You're very handsome and sexy."

"Lot's of people are attractive and sexy. So I don't think that's it. Come on, you can tell me."

"I'm nice." She said.

"I've noticed, I'm not. It's not really a match."

"I'm talking about the kind of nice that's repressed and unhealthy. I want people to like me, to be nice back to me. My whole life I've been a peacemaker and a placater and I'm tired of it. I love how you just say what's on your mind and you don't care what anyone thinks."

"So it's my charm?" He took off his jacket and shoes.

"No, it's because you don't care about charm, or feelings or anything except what's right. That's a total turn on."

"So is the idea that by being with me that you'll somehow morph into someone who doesn't need everyone's approval? Aren't you, in fact, seeking my approval most of all?" He regarded her skeptically.

"I didn't say it was perfectly thought out. I think that my liking you has something to do with me wanting to change. It's psychological and stuff. I'd actually have to go into therapy to really understand it. How about we don't worry so much about the _why_, let's just go with it." She kissed him on the cheek. "What exactly are you so afraid of?

He silently sat, contemplating everything. "You'll get tired of my shit one day."

"Oh, House." Cameron sighed. She held him tight.

"Allison…" he started.

"You need to shut up because you're about to say something stupid." She informed him, reaching behind him to dim the lights. He opened his mouth to protest and found that her lips were on his. "I can do this all night." She threatened. Or was it a promise?

Author's Note: First of all to jeevesandwooster, yes dears, it's a joke. I think we all know what _merde_ means. For all of you who are catching the literary references, you have warmed the cockles of my former English-teacher heart. I highly recommend a liberal arts education, with a strong emphasis on literature. Read more books!


	13. Sacred Family

They had fallen asleep between kisses, tangled innocently in each other's arms. Cameron woke first and was torn between finding a way to get even closer to him and in getting up to explore the last port of call before they flew home.

Cameron ordered breakfast quietly and returned to the bed to watch him. He slept like a small child, nearly comatose in his complete repose. She picked up his arm and watched as it leadenly fell back upon the duvet.

One eye opened and regarded her. It closed again and then reopened. "Barcelona?" He asked.

She walked over to the window and looked out. "Yes. Come have some breakfast." She had poured the coffee for them.

"Sentences." He said sipping.

"In the morning I've been known to speak in full sentences." She explained. "Let's see what surprise they have for me this morning." She lifted the cover and found a bowl of fresh fruit and a blintz. "Okay, that's just weird. The fruit, that makes sense, but the blintz," she shook her head, "that's just out of left field."

His head swiveled at the mention of the blintz, "cheese?"

She poked it, "with blueberry sauce."

He held out his hand. She passed the plate to him. He passed an egg to her. "It was supposed to be pancakes."

She spread honey on her toast and bit into it, the realization dawning on her, "You were the one who got them to add stuff to my tray?"

He continued chewing so he didn't have to answer.

"I was right. The tray _was_ prepared with love." She smiled and allowed herself a small squee.

He groaned.

Rather than have tenders take them to the shore, the ship had berthed dockside. All anyone had to do to get ashore was walk down the gangway, through a building and over to the tour busses. Cameron sighed, "More busses. More time with these…_people_."

"Not necessarily." He stepped over to the other side of the street and hailed a taxi. "Do you speak English?" He asked the driver.

"I thought you spoke Spanish." She said.

"Didn't you read your tour materials? They don't speak Spanish here, they speak Catalan." He turned his attention to the taxi driver who answered affirmatively. "Great, here's a hundred euros. We'd like to see all the things worth seeing and we'd like you to take us to lunch where you like to eat."

The driver smiled, turned off the meter and headed onto the crowded streets. "Sacred Family?" He asked.

"Perfect." House sat back in the seat and enjoyed the journey. The buildings were typical of a metropolitan, European city. Shoppers walked up and down the wide boulevard, past a store called _El Corte Ingles, The English House_, carrying bags. Periodically McDonalds or Dunkin' Donuts would mar the landscape.

"Oh, it's beautiful." Cameron looked out the window at a gorgeous old building that currently housed a bank.

They came upon the church, which had been under construction since the 19th century. The taxi slowly drove around the structure, which was typically, scaffold. He then let them out, parking across the street with the other cabs. He bought an ice cream and leaned against his car while House and Cameron took a closer look.

House squinted up into the sunshine at the gothic part of the structure. This was the Façade of the Nativity. He was caught up in the detail of the spires and the statuary. "Gaudi started this in the late 1880s and he was able to see the completion of this portion of it. It must have been rewarding for him." He contemplated the building. "All funded by the church as an example to the wicked, wicked city. It's survived war, internal strife and indifference."

"Surely not indifference?" Cameron was amazed by the beauty of it. "It's unique. I've never seen anything like it."

"All to glorify God. What do you make of that? As an atheist, I mean." They walked around to the Façade of the Passion.

Cameron was silent. "Certainly, the Church would want its buildings to be impressive."

"But this isn't just impressive, it's awe-inspiring. Look at how different this _modernista_ side is. But still, just as beautiful. The craftsmen on this project have committed their lifetimes to it, and never got the satisfaction of seeing the whole thing done. Gaudi was perfectly content knowing that he had satisfied his customer, God." House gazed upon the Blessed Virgin. "Just beautiful."

Cameron peered up into Her face, "The Mother of God, what must that have been like? To be young, a virgin, about to be married, to have your life all planned out. One night an angel comes to you and tells you that you have been selected by God to lead a difficult life. The hell with your plans, your hopes, your dreams. And the bonus is that after all of that you get to watch as your Son, your precious boy, dies." She paused, overcome with emotions that had nothing to do with the building. "Some gift."

House took her hand and said nothing. They walked back to the taxi. He hugged her and gave her a kiss on the top of the head.

They drove into the hills towards the park. The driver pointed to the six and seven story apartment buildings. "Cheap. No lifts." He said.

"They're all walk ups?" Cameron said, shocked. "Imagine coming off a long day at work and having to climb up six flights. I guess you do what you have to do."

The driver took them to Park Guëll, also designed by Gaudi. They sat on a bench that curved around an observation area. They looked out over the city and onto the ocean. The park itself was full of trees and picnic areas. They walked down a path to a house. It was covered in giant ant sculptures. Cameron laughed, "That's surreal."

"Exactly. Have you ever seen _Un Chien Andolou_?" House asked.

"No. Is it some kind of foreign film?"

"Foreign, alien, acid induced. Something. Buñell and Dali got together after a five-day drunk and came up with all of these weird images and put them on film. This one evokes ants coming out of a stigmata type wound in the hand." He watched her as she shuddered. "I won't tell you about the eyeball. All you need to know is that my mother wouldn't let me watch it when I was a kid. I had to take a film history class in order to understand why."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it. You do remember that I got through Gross Anatomy." She took his arm and they sat on a bench for a minute. "So what's with this house out here?"

"Ah, according to the guide book Gaudi tried to design this as a housing development. But, at the time, this was a bit out of the way, and the design was considered, outré. For want of a better word."

"Bizarre?" She offered.

"That would work." He conceded. "Bizarre. So he lived in this one and commuted to the church we just came from."

They walked back towards the main part of the park. "It's really fun. I love the colors and the shapes and textures. And the lizard. I love the lizard."

"You love a lot of strange things." House watched as she took a picture of the lizard, "Give me that, I'll take one of you with him."

He snapped and then someone offered to take one of them together. He hugged Cameron and grinned as she smiled, "There's no going back from here House. It's photographic proof."

He took the camera from the helpful fellow tourist. "You plan on using this as a screensaver?" He held it aloft as she tried to grab for it.

"Yes! And I'm going to Photoshop hearts around it." She threatened.

"You wouldn't dare!" They laughed and giggled back to the taxi.

It was early afternoon by the time they got back to the ship. They had finished their education hours and the evening was theirs. They watched local television and tried to guess what it was all about. "Let's have a cocktail and watch the sunset and then we can have dinner in the room. Something simple, like a hamburger or a steak. I'm getting tired of all this rich food." House complained.

They sat in the lounge and quietly nursed their drinks, occasionally brushing their fingers together. Angie Weston saw them and sat at their table. "Hi! I'm waiting for Charles. He went with some of the other doctors to play golf. I went shopping."

"Really?" Cameron feigned shock. "What were you shopping for?"

House smiled his amusement as the blond rattled on, "Well, I thought it might be nice for me to get saints medals for his kids."

"He's Catholic?" Cameron asked.

"No. But I thought they'd be neat gifts."

House screwed up his face in thought, "Saint Courtney and Saint Jared?"

Angie laughed, "Brittany and Amber." She said.

"Okay." He decided to go with it rather than try to understand it.

"So Kelly and I walked all over looking. We found sweaters and beaded purses and art and all kinds of things, but no saints medals. Not even in the church. There was a nice shop that sold statues, but that wasn't really what we had in mind. So, I didn't get them."

"That's a shame." Cameron lied.

"Oh, there he is. Are you going to the pirate party on shore tonight?" She asked.

"Avast, no." House said.

"Oh. Well, have a good time! It was really nice seeing you Allison." She kissed her on the cheek.

"It was nice seeing you too. If we don't see you at the airport tomorrow, have a nice trip back." Cameron said, standing to give her an air kiss and shoulder squeeze. "God, I hope that's the last I see of them." She said as Angie waved from the door.

House threw a peanut in the air and tried to catch it. It rolled under the table next to theirs. "You don't want to do this every year? Go around in a pack with people who are just like you? Go to exotic places and try to do exactly what you would do if you were out on a Saturday in King of Prussia?" He named a toney Philadelphia suburb.

"Yes. That was always my dream. I went to medical school to kill time until I could nab a doctor, preferably one who did dermatology or plastic surgery, you know, better hours. I wanted to be the second or the third wife, that way he'd be established. I'd do the pool boy on Thursdays and I'd play tennis twice a week at the country club." She popped the cherry in her mouth and chewed.

"That was a little too well thought out." House said. He watched as she pulled the stem out, knotted. "Oh. Parlor games."

"I've seen that scenario played out my whole life. My best friend growing up had three different step-mothers. That whole life is so empty. I want more." She tipped her glass and drank the last few drops.

House indicated to the bartender that they wanted another round. "So what's different about your life?"

"You're kidding right?" For just a moment she had a horrible feeling that House only liked her because she was arm-candy.

"Yes! If you ever come to me babbling about some idiotic shopping shit like that. Well, let's just say that if things progress, it will be in the pre-nup." Realizing that he had said too much, he stood, taking his drink with him. "We have to be packed with our luggage in the hall by eleven."

Cameron sat on the bed in her night clothes. The window was open and the sound of waves lapping at the hull of the ship was soothing. A cool, salty breeze refreshed the air. "I'm going to miss this room."

"I can't wait to get home. Sleep in my own bed. Have a reuben sandwich. Have more than three options on the television." He flipped through the channels again, resting on a movie.

"I'll miss evenings like this. It's nice being relaxed, seeing new things and then just being quiet with you." Cameron looked through the drawers to be sure that she wasn't leaving anything behind.

"Who says that we have to stop doing this?" House said reasonably.

"I guess we could. Maybe on the weekends." She put everything she'd need for the next morning in one small bag and she double checked that she hadn't omitted anything important. She went back into the hall and saw the bags. "That's weird, a bunch of people haven't put their luggage out yet." She came back to the room. "So what exactly are you suggesting?"

"You could sub-let your apartment and move in with me."

Cameron stopped her obsessive checking and sat down next to him. "I don't know that I'm ready to do that. Stacy told me that you were living with her after knowing her for only a week."

He heaved a sigh, "Yes and even now I don't regret that. I know when it's right."

"You know that I'm crazy about you. I've liked you right from the beginning, but I'm independent. We have the rest of our lives, what's the hurry?" She rubbed his back.

"Is it that you're unsure?" He asked quietly.

"No. I'm sure. I'd just like a time when I can be with you and still be on my own. I think that a transitional period is good. Do you understand?"

"Like being engaged to be engaged? Do you want a promise ring?"

"That's really corny." She laughed, "Do people honestly do that?"

"I do." He reached into his pocket and produced a box.

"I thought we agreed that you weren't going to buy me anything." She took the small velvet box from him and looked at it.

"I never agreed. Aren't you going to open it?"

"Oh." She hugged him tight. Then she carefully lifted the lid. The satin lining the box was embossed with '_bvlgari_'. "You bought this here?"

"I _told_ you I was having a generous impulse. Thank God for your naps."

She lifted the ring out of its slot. "House….Greg, it's beautiful." It was white gold with a gentle curve. A small brilliant cut diamond nestled in the peak.

"Do you want to wear it?" His face reflected hope, love and terror.

"Yes. Very much. Not just because it's beautiful." She kissed him. "A promise ring? Actually, that's perfect." She slipped it onto her slender finger and admired it.

House smiled. "A transition period?"

"I'll let you know when I'm ready." She rubbed the part of the ring near her palm.

"When's your lease up?" He asked.


	14. Promised You a Miracle

Promised You a Miracle

Cameron woke up to the sun pouring into her room. Had it all been a dream? She fought the knot in her stomach and looked at her left hand. It was still there, glinting in the early morning light.

She looked around her room. Her open suitcase spilling over with dirty laundry. The drawers in her room ajar from frantic packing before she left. "This is no dream. This is a _real_ mess."

She wandered into her kitchen and checked the fridge, knowing full well that she had emptied it before she left. A pound of Starbucks Komodo Dragon coffee, a fresh quart of milk and a pint of orange juice sat next to a carton of eggs. A note told her to look in the bread box. She found croissants. "Foreman. You are a God-send." She cooked herself breakfast, taking every opportunity to admire her hand.

Properly fortified she could now tackle the laundry. She had it sorted and started the first load when she heard a knock at the door. "Coming!" She sang out.

Foreman stood there in his Sunday suit. "So? How awkward is work going to be tomorrow?"

She motioned him in and poured him a cup of coffee. "I don't think it will be too bad. We're still speaking, if that's what you're asking. Oh, thanks for the groceries, I am in no mood to go to the store."

He sipped and smiled. "My pleasure, I know how it is. So what stupid thing did he say?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean." She feigned a quizzical look, and stuck her left index finger in her mouth, just enough to draw attention to her hand.

Foreman allowed his eyes to be directed to the ring. "Oh Sweet Baby Jesus, tell me that isn't what I think it is."

She giggled and then laughed, "It's worse. It's a promise ring."

He smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. "He bought you a five-thousand dollar ring as a _promise_? What did you do to him?"

"Nothing." She regarded his skeptical look. "Really. We're still virgins. Figuratively speaking. He just really, really likes me. And I really, really like him. Okay, indulge me for a minute." Her voice went up an octave with giddiness, "And we're going to get married and have babies and live happily ever after!" She gazed lovingly at the ring again and tried to return to normal. "What do you mean five-thousand dollars?"

"That's Bulgari right? That diamond is probably very close to flawless and it's about a half carat. Seriously, you can tell me; I won't judge you. Was he very kinky?" His eyes sparkled mischievously.

The color drained from her face and she sat down in her favorite chair. "Oh no." She looked at her finger again, "But I love my ring. I love _him_. Why would he spend so much?"

Foreman laughed, "Oh yeah, it's going to be awkward. He's sprung. Girl, you got paid!"

"No! It's cute, it's a joke. I couldn't possibly…I'll call Chase! He'll know." She grabbed her phone and dialed Chase's cell. "Chase, it's Ali. Foreman's trying to freak me out. Where are you? Well gnaw your arm off and get over here."

Foreman flipped through her magazine rack and came up with a Vogue. He leafed through the pages until he found an ad. "Allison, come here." She sat next to him on the sofa. "Here's proof." The glossy pages showed various settings for diamonds and other precious stones. "He's got great taste."

"This isn't funny. I mean I had a crush and he liked me and we sat up kissing every night. He asked me to live with him and I told him I needed time. I thought the promise ring was so cute and so perfect. I thought it might have cost him a couple of hundred dollars. I had no _idea_…Oh no."

Foreman took off his jacket and loosened his tie, "I don't see what the problem is. He wanted you to have it; you want to wear it, done deal."

"But it's too much." She compared her ring with those in the magazine. She got up and fussed with her laundry and worried.

Chase arrived around thirty minutes later wearing the previous night's clothes. "So what's gone wrong? What did House do?"

"Show him." Foreman instructed Cameron.

She extended her left hand towards him, quickly flipping the magazine shut. "What do you think?"

"Wow. So have you set the date?"

She snatched her hand back, "It's a promise ring."

"That's some promise. What did that set him back do you think?" Chase asked Foreman.

"About five grand."

"Yeah, give or take. Good quality stone." He went into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

Foreman saw that Cameron was still flipping out, "Okay, you can call your mom and tell her you got a promise ring. You can show everyone you know. You can get a cute manicure so it looks good. What you can _not _do is let him know that it bugs you that he spent so much money on it. This is something that he wants you to wear. No matter what it cost, it doubled in value for him when you put it on your finger. Don't worry. You're worth it." He patted her on the hand.

"I'm not so sure." Cameron had a far away look in her eyes.

xxxxxxx

House sat at the piano and played his favorite songs, mostly from the Cole Porter song book. He had just finished _Night and Day_ when he heard the knocking at his door. "Come in!" He called. He was hoping that it was her, but in a way, he was happy to have some time to himself.

Wilson opened the door and blinked. "Hey, you've got the curtains open. It's bright and sunny in here."

"Yes, I've ushered in a new era." He tinkled the keys and then closed the cover over them.

"Oh? To what do we owe this miraculous change?" He walked back into the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge.

"The usual things." House said dismissively, "But how's everything with you?"

"Don't ask." Wilson flopped on the leather sofa and rooted around for the remote. "Isn't there a game on?"

"What sport?" House smiled, despite his best efforts.

"Doesn't matter," Wilson said sulkily.

"Tennis? Golf? Baseball? Tiddly-winks?" House suggested.

"Yes. Fine. Put on ESPN the quad, if you have to." He flipped through the usual Sunday public affairs programming.

"Did Julie find a receipt that she shouldn't have?" He walked over to the bookshelf and absently looked over his collection of satirical novels.

"Something like that. It's my fault, I shouldn't be mad at her. But I am. I can't believe I'm on my third divorce. I'm too young to have three divorces. You've got the right idea. Never get married." He lay on the sofa and blew his bangs out of his face. "You got any nachos?"

"No. And I'm afraid that I'm deficient in the other category too." He quietly contemplated his friend and wondered what he would say.

"Other category?" Wilson said.

"Never getting married." He said.

Wilson got up so fast he gave himself a head-rush. "Holy shit House." It seemed that there should be more to the story. "So tell me what happened?"

"There's not much to tell. I gave her a ring; she's agreed to wear it. _Maybe _we'll get married." He picked up the phone, "You want me to order some Chinese?"

Wilson nodded. "There's something you're not telling me."

House rolled his eyes and placed the order, "I got extra dumplings, they just seem to be so…Sunday to me."

"So I'm guessing that you got beyond kissing? Am I right? Does she wear black lace panties?" He held out his hand as though collecting on a bet.

"You know, a hundred years ago I would have to duel with you over a remark like that. But I'm willing to overlook it, mostly because I don't know for sure."

"You got her an engagement ring and you haven't even…" He tried to think of a way to put it delicately and realized that he didn't have the vocabulary for it, "You're romantic!" He accused.

House gave him a withering look. "I beg your pardon?"

"An engagement ring House? And no nookie? That's romance."

"Technically it's a promise ring. She didn't want to be rushed." He explained, blushing under a two-day growth of beard.

"Okay, a promise ring. That's incredibly lame. How much did she love it?"

"More than a lot." House said, "It's a really beautiful ring."

Wilson's eyes narrowed to slits, "How beautiful?"

House shrugged, "I wanted something as unique and graceful as she is."

"So tomorrow when we get to work she's going to be surrounded by women squealing over her ring? That's the forth circle of hell House. Especially with Julie on the rampage." He sat back down on the sofa.

"I plan on being _incommunicado_ all day. I'll be in the Clinic if that's what it takes." He stacked a pile of papers that he had collected during his trip. Boarding passes, tour tickets and receipts.

Wilson sorted through the pile after him. "You saw Pompeii? Cool."

"Ask Cameron to see her pictures, the place is incredible," He was happy to change the subject.

"Are you going to scrapbook these? Why don't you just throw this stuff away?"

House reached possessively for it, "Leave it alone. It's mine!"

"Spoken like a two-year old." Wilson laughed as he reached for a paper that escaped from the pile and was floating towards the floor. "What's this?" He read it out loud, "_El Corte Ingles_? That sounds fancy."

"Give me that!" House reached frantically for the paper but Wilson played keep-away with it, standing on the sofa.

"So you bought something for €4100? What's that work out to?" Wilson seemed to have no idea. "Wait! This is the receipt for the ring?" He worked out some calculations in his head. "These aren't pesos, these are euros." He sat down on the sofa and handed the receipt back to House. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I haven't the vaguest idea." House admitted, "I just figure I'll do the opposite of what you tell me to do."

"You're a cold man House."

xxxxxx

Cameron was in his office sipping coffee and deleting his e-mail. He startled her. "You're here early." She said.

"I wanted to see you."

"Making sure I'm real?"

"That's just witchcraft." He said. "How do you know my thoughts?"

"They're mine too. All day yesterday I kept checking my hand. Do you suppose that's how the whole ring giving thing came about? As a way for girls to know that it wasn't a beautiful dream, that every minute of it was real and true?" She stood on her tip toes to kiss him.

"Real and true?" He had at least four snarky things to say to that and he let every one of them go.

"I already told the boys."

"Great. I guess merciless teasing is in the works for the next week or so?"

"Pretty much. There's all sorts of opportunity for awkwardness. You might want to have a conversation with Stacy. I mean, on the one hand you don't want people to just find out and fill in their own blanks, but on the other, what exactly are we announcing?"

He bypassed that minefield. "And then there's Cuddy." He added.

"Oh. Yeah. Glad you've got that one." She brushed past him to head down to the lab. She turned back towards him. "So when do I get to think clearly again? When do I get to take you for granted?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. I'm still dazzled myself."

She smiled, "But you're still my boss. When we're at work, nothing changes, right?"

"Absolutely. Count on me for insensitive remarks and biting sarcasm."

"I always do." She fluttered her fingers at him as she left.

"This is going to be weird." He said to himself.

xxxxx

Cuddy was usually in the clinic on Mondays to insure that things were running smoothly after the weekend. She was shocked to see House limping in bright and early. She smiled at him, "Look who we have here. So how badly did you screw up? Has she quit again?" She signed him in and looked over the list of waiting patients. "If I have to find another doctor to replace her I'm giving you the kid with diarrhea."

"It's worse." He said simply, "I'm here to do my penance. Kid with diarrhea, old lady with trichomonas, guy with a boil on his ass. Bring it on."

She regarded him suspiciously, "I'm wearing my pink ruffled shirt, which you haven't acknowledged at all. You're here early and you're volunteering to take the dogs? This is worse than I thought. I'm going to have to involve the lawyers aren't I?" She sighed with annoyance. "What did you do House?"

"You'll find out soon enough. My only defense is that I was provoked." He grabbed a chart and stepped out into the waiting room, "Travis?" He called. He turned back to a worried Cuddy, "That's the kid with the runs, right?"

She nodded and watched as he escorted the mother and her son into the exam room. "I've got to see about this."

She walked down to the diagnostic medicine department. She didn't know what she expected to see, but she wasn't going to rest until she knew the story. She was surprised to find Cameron in the lab catching up on paperwork.

"Oh." Cuddy walked in.

"Didn't think I'd be here?" Cameron said pleasantly.

"The way House was talking…I'm glad you're being professional. Whatever it is we can work it out." Cuddy sighed with relief.

"He's yanking your chain. We're fine. We're more than fine." She held out her hand.

Cuddy grabbed it to get a better look, "Oh my God. That's beautiful. You're going to _marry_ him?" That seemed kind of drastic. Cuddy's idea of purgatory was a lifetime with House.

"It's a promise ring. We're not ready yet to get married. It's no big deal. I'd really like just to get used to the idea for a while."

"I can certainly understand that." Cuddy said diplomatically. "I'm glad. It'll be good for him. Okay, I guess I'll just get back to work." She started to walk out, "Let me see it one more time."

xxxxx

Cameron found that staying in the lab was a good way to avoid the inevitable looks and whispers. A hospital is a small place when there's news this big. She decided to stay away from the Clinic to allow House his space and to try to concentrate on something else.

Foreman showed up at around one with some lunch for her. "I figured that you'd be here all day." He handed her the styrofoam box.

"You take very good care of me." She opened it to see what it was, "chicken salad. Yum. Thanks, I'll eat it later; I'm not all that hungry right now." She pushed it to the side.

"You might not feel like eating, but you really should." He pushed back to her.

"Eric, is it really so weird?" She took a mouthful to please him.

"Yes. It's entirely weird. But Allison, you've never done anything normal in your life. Just add this to the list. You see something in him, he sees something in you. What, we'll never know…"

She swatted him, "If you knew my family, you'd understand."

"How so?" He slid the pickle out of the box and bit into it, "You didn't want this, did you?"

"Not now." She took another bite, "I'm the youngest in my family by fifteen years. My brothers and sisters are all way older than I am. I guess I'm just more comfortable with a guy who talks like they do, listens to the same music. He just fits comfortably in my mind. If that makes sense."

"But what about your husband? He wasn't older, was he?" He looked down, afraid that he might have said something to make her sad.

"No. But that was different. It's not that I was consciously looking for an older guy, but for me, it's not something I'd rule out. And I didn't." She couldn't help herself; she stole another look at her ring. "Thank God."

xxxx

At around four, Cameron had finally sorted everything out. She filed it all and made the appropriate notes in the charts and felt that considering how disordered her emotions were, that she had at least managed to put the scut-work in order. Not that it was much of an accomplishment.

She was about to walk up to House's office, looking for something to do when Wilson found her. "Hey, been hiding out here all day?"

"Yup. Did a little work too. I guess he told you?" She felt shy suddenly, Wilson was important to House and more than once he had warned her not to play with his emotions.

"Oh yeah. He told me. So let me see." He took her hand, "That's beautiful. Have you been showing it around?"

She took her hand back, "No. Not that much."

"Don't want to show it off?" He admired it for another few seconds.

"Who here really cares? It's pointless to garner oohs and ahs from people who are just looking for a cheap thrill. It's different when it's someone who knows us, someone who's happy for us." She licked her lips, "are you happy for us?"

Wilson smiled, "Of course."

"Are you sure? It changes a lot of things for you. You rely on Greg a lot." She didn't elaborate.

"I do, but ultimately I want to see him happy." He considered his words, "Or less miserable. Might as well aim for something attainable."

"I'm aiming for happy." She said simply.

"That's what I like about you. Your eternal optimism. So you've got what you want, huh?"

"I think so. It happened so quickly. I wonder if he might wake up one day and realize that he's made a mistake. I don't want to rush him."

"Oh. That explains a lot. He's a decisive person."

"I've noticed."

"He's sure right now; today. Aren't you?" He wasn't worried about House's ambivalence.

"I want to learn more about him. I know him as a person and I love what I know, but I need more time."

"What if after that time you decide you don't want him?"

"Is that what he's afraid of, or what you're afraid of?" She loved how protective Wilson was of House.

Wilson gave a self-effacing laugh. "It's probably me."

"Would you feel better if I swore to love, honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, in front of a judge? Would that make it right in your eyes?"

"Ouch." Wilson replied, "I was hoping that you'd rub off on him, not the other way around."

"I'm sorry. That was harsh. You know, better than anyone, that there aren't any guarantees. I promise this, I'm with him with my eyes wide open. I don't want from him what he can't give."

Wilson hugged her, "I guess that's as good as it gets. Welcome to the family."


	15. Pyromania

Pyromania

Cameron sat at her desk in the dining alcove of her apartment and chewed on the eraser of her pencil. The grid sat before her and she had written things in the squares and then erased them again. "This sucks." It was Thursday and she was waiting for Foreman and Chase to show up with dinner. "Maybe Monday and Wednesday." She marked it out and looked at it again. "Crap!" She threw the pencil across the desk and it hit the wall making a small mark.

The doorbell rang so she got up, happy to be diverted from her task for just a moment. It was Foreman with the pizza. "Good, I'm glad you're here. I'm ready to give up on this thing."

He put the box on the pass-through counter in her kitchen. "I don't even know why you're doing this. I don't know why you didn't just move in with him." He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

"Because I need my space. And I need my time with you guys. You know what the problem is? Hand me one of those." She indicated a bottle of water. He handed it to her.

"Yeah, the problem is that you date your boss and you work with your friends." He sat on the sofa and turned on Wheel of Fortune.

"That's not a problem. That's a bonus. The problem is Thursday." She sat next to him and put her feet up on the coffee table.

"Thursday? I thought the problem was Sunday." He popped the top of his can and slurped the foam.

"I think I've worked out Sunday. No, it's Thursday." She got up and went into the alcove, "Let me show you." She brought back the grid. "I get Monday alone. Tuesday I have dinner with him and go home early. Wednesday, that's reserved for seminars, meetings, you know, the crap that comes up in the middle of the week. Friday, I'm with you guys for drinks. Saturday is date-night, with sleep-over and then Sunday morning into the afternoon with him. Sunday night, I'm home. I figure I can do laundry on Saturday morning or Sunday night. Cleaning, well, I do that as I go. Girl stuff, some of that I can do Thursday, but here's the problem. I feel like I shouldn't go more than two days without spending time with him, but that means that either I give up Thursdays…" She looked at him as he studied the chart.

"Or he comes over here on Thursday." Foreman completed her sentence.

"I know that Thursday has historically been our night to just hang out and veg. Would it really complicate things so much if he joined us?"

Foreman smiled, "I can't believe that you are agonizing over this."

"I _am_! This is hard work. I don't want to be one of those females that sucks her friends dry when she's single and then forgets to call or hang out once she gets a boyfriend. That's just tacky." She got up to answer the door. "You know Chase will kick."

"What'll I kick about?" He came in with a six-pack of Becks and a pink bakery box.

Foreman called to him in the kitchen, "She wants House to join us for Thursday Pizza and Crap TV night."

"I knew it. Can't you just give him Wednesday?" He sat in the arm chair and pouted.

"Wednesday is seminar and meeting day." She explained.

"But those are over by eight or so. Go over to his place afterwards." He suggested.

"There's not much left of the evening after that." She said, as if explaining something to a very slow child.

"So stay over, rock his world. I see enough of him at work." He whined.

"We're not there yet. God, if we ever do get to that point I won't have a spare minute to call my own." She mused.

"Right, then you'll move in with him and this whole conversation will be academic. Oh, don't forget about Wilson." Foreman reminded her.

"Crap! You mean we might have to do this at _his_ house? I'm getting new friends." Chase pronounced.

"You know Chase; you could reach a rapprochement with him. Let bygones be bygones." Foreman said.

"Wait, back up. Wilson? What about him?" Cameron stopped erasing.

"It wouldn't seem right, inviting House and not Wilson. I'm getting a slice." He got up and opened the box.

"Wilson would be okay." Chase agreed, pulling a piece from the other side of the pie.

"So you're saying invite Wilson but _not_ House?" Cameron's pencil was poised over the page.

"I admit it; there's a fundamental flaw in that arrangement." Chase agreed, "I realize that House is inevitability, I'm just fighting it tooth and nail."

"Okay, so not only are we adding House to Thursday Pizza and Crap TV night, but we're also adding Wilson. I can live with that." She smiled as she noted the chart. "There!"

"Look on the bright side Chase, they can bring the pizza." Foreman comforted him.

"Some consolation; House probably likes anchovies." Chase moped.

xxxxx

House humored her and looked at the chart. "How long did this take you?"

"You don't want to know. So Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and part of Sunday. What do you think?" She waited for his feedback. She was prepared for teasing.

"It would be a lot easier if you lived with me."

"That goes without saying, but that's not the arrangement. Not yet. So putting that aside…how does _this_ arrangement look?"

"According to this I'm going to be spending Thursday with you and the children." He squinted to read the small print under Thursday.

"And Wilson," she added.

"And Wilson. You've thought of everything." He handed the chart back to her.

"I try to be thorough." She stepped back and locked his office door. "Now for your reward."

"Reward? This should be good. Why do I get a reward?" He watched her as she closed the blinds.

"Because you're going to work and play well with others. You've been nagging me to see him since I got him." She took off her jacket, revealing a tank-top made of a thin microfiber, trimmed in lace. It didn't leave much to the imagination. She moved closer to him and lifted up her skirt.

He gulped as she raised the hem above her lace topped stockings. "You are playing with fire." He warned.

"I'm a pyromaniac. Now pay attention." The skirt cleared her cheeks and because she wore a thong, revealed the koala. It was more intricate that he had anticipated. He clung to a eucalyptus tree and the fur was heavily detailed. "So? What do you think?"

He had no words. Yes, the koala was cute, but it was nothing compared to the splendor of her bare skin. He reached over to touch her. Tracing his finger along the ink on her body.

"House? Greg?" She turned to find him mesmerized. "Okay, that's enough." She slid her skirt back down.

He stared up at her with lust in his eyes. "Wow. This was unexpected." He grabbed her and slung her over his lap. "I wasn't finished." He lifted her skirt while she squirmed.

"Let me up." She hung onto his desk for balance.

"In a minute. I warned you." He let his large hands travel across her soft skin, down to the top of her stockings. "I'm thorough too."

"Is this it? Is this how you want it to be? A stolen moment in your office? Because if you keep it up, that's how it's going to happen." She twisted around to look into his eyes.

He stopped momentarily; but still refused to let her up, "Let me think about that. It could be hot, we might get caught. Are you an exhibitionist?" He resumed stroking her.

"No. Are you?" She regretted that she had no leverage; she was trapped on his lap until he chose to release her.

"Could be." He slid his hand down her leg to her ankle, "This is very nice."

There was a tap on the door. "Dr. House?" It was Foreman.

"Go away!" House called.

The shadow on the other side of the door paused, and then walked away.

"Damn. Let me up. Do you want me to scream?" She wriggled, trying to get him to loosen his grip on her.

"Yes." He said simply. House's pager bleated. He ignored it. Cameron's pager vibrated, "That could be intriguing."

"Come on. Something's going on. We're needed." It was clear he needed more of an inducement. "I'll show you the coyote."

"Coyote?" He released his grip and she took advantage of his distraction to extricate herself. "Where's the coyote?"

"Probably still chasing that damn roadrunner. With all the money he spends with that crappy Acme company, you think he'd just go buy some groceries." She smoothed her suit and fluffed her hair.

"You tricked me." He said ruefully.

Cameron's face was flushed and her lips were red, perhaps where she had been biting them. "Yes." She reached for her Blackberry and read the message. "Mine's nothing, what about yours."

He was still a bit dazed. He checked his message, "The same. And I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids."

"I'm going to the lab." She backed away from him.

"You don't have to do that. Now that you're on your feet, you have the advantage."

"I don't trust you enough to turn my back on you." She fumbled behind her with the lock on the door.

"You're being ridiculous." His intense gaze disquieted her.

"I'm not. You're dangerous. Like putting out a fire with gasoline." She slid through the still closed blinds and made her escape.

Foreman waited for her at the end of the hall. "You know, people are going to talk."

She flipped her hair and kept on walking, "You mean _you're_ going to talk."

"Well yes. So how was it? You remembered to use protection, right?" He teased as she walked away from him.

xxxx

Wilson opened the door around the swinging blades of the blinds. "You want me to open these?"

"You might as well." He continued to surf the Internet.

"So what was with the locked door and the blinds?"

"The door wasn't locked." House stated.

"Yes it was. Foreman said so. Afternoon delight?" He sat in the guest chair and watched as House ignored him. "I'm not going away."

"I noticed. I'm not answering." He clicked on an Adobe document and waited for it to pop up.

"So you want to come have a drink with me tonight?" He changed the subject, having been warned off sacred ground.

"Let me check the schedule." He pulled out Cameron's grid and tried to make it out. "See if you can figure this out." He tossed it over to him.

Wilson picked it up and chuckled, "She's made out a schedule?"

"Thank you Captain Obvious. Yes. It's like a custody agreement. I get her a few days a week, the boys get her a few days a week and somewhere in there she goes to an ashram and meditates. What is wrong with women today? It used to be you'd invite them to live with you and they'd bring their cat, their macramé and their favorite spider plant and set up housekeeping. Now there are boundaries and limits and alone time." He tried to look impatient but he couldn't hide his amusement.

"_You're_ complaining about alone time? You just want hot and cold running booty. Now you've got to actually put some thought into it. I think she's outsmarted you here. In consulting the schedule, you are indeed free for a drink tonight. If it makes you feel better, I know where they're going and we can accidentally-on-purpose run into them." Wilson thumb tacked the paper on the cork board by House's desk.

"Great. And then you can be the wing-man while I make my move? Christ I feel like it's 1980 all over again." He threw a koosh ball up in the air.

"That's a good thing. She's making you feel young. That's how you should feel. Seen the koala yet?" Wilson teased.

"Funny you should ask." House responded, "I have just recently been granted a viewing of the koala. Damn fine piece there." Up went the koosh ball.

"The tattoo is amazingly well done. The detail on the face is great." Wilson agreed.

"I forgot to look at the koala." House admitted.


	16. Darwin Awards

Darwin Awards

Cameron scanned the website and giggled as she read. It was early on a summer morning and it was already hot enough to cause her glasses to fog up on the walk from the cool of her air conditioned car through the humidity of the parking garage.

"What's funny?" House startled her from the doorway.

She jumped, "You're early."

"I've been early on a number of occasions, yet with each incident you feel the need to comment." He slung his satchel under the desk and wandered in the direction of the coffee pot. He returned a moment later with his mug. "So what caused the chuckle? Some guy in Nigeria need you to commit bank fraud?"

"No. Some guy in Alabama gave himself CO2 poisoning by transporting 100 pounds of dry ice inside his car." She indicated the site.

"Alabama. The state that defies Darwin's theory. Anything else of interest from the CDC?" He walked over to his freshly sorted mail.

"A kid got Tularemia from a hamster bite." She said, pointing to the screen.

"You'll never convince me that it's a good idea to adopt vermin as pets." He said.

"Hamsters are cute." She said, "I had one when I was kid. Hammie. He liked to roll around the living room in a plastic ball."

She was greeted with a long stare, "Vermin." He sipped his coffee.

"At any rate Cuddy called, she wants us to consult on a guy. He came in with flu-like symptoms and seems to be deteriorating." She got up from his desk and moved towards him.

He caught her momentarily, just to make contact, "It's always flu-like symptoms. I suppose the next thing you'll tell me is that he's had a seizure in the MRI tube."

"It's a living." She said. "Come on, let's go look at him. It's better than sitting around here with nothing to do."

The man in the bed coughed with a deep rumble. "I always get bronchitis. This time I think it's turned into pneumonia." He said, drawing a long, rattling breath.

"Well, that's good enough for me." House said, "He doesn't need a consult, he's already diagnosed himself."

Foreman gave him the hairy eyeball. "How long have you been sick this time?"

"About a month off and on. Some days I feel fine, then the next day I feel horrible. Like today, I've got a killer headache." He coughed again.

Foreman grew concerned. "Headache? When did that happen?" He checked the chart and didn't find a notation.

The patient looked back at him, "I don't know, last night? It feels like my head's going to explode though."

Foreman gently took the patients head and moved it side-to-side, "Does that hurt?"

"No." He coughed again. Then he moved his head so that his chin touched his chest, "Ow!"

Foreman stepped into the group of doctors, House suddenly developed an interest. "Meningitis?"

Foreman ordered the appropriate tests and they walked back into the conference room. House sat at the head of the table. "So the guy has pneumonia and possibly meningitis. What disease does that?" He stood with the marker at his trusty whiteboard writing down the symptoms.

He turned to Cameron, "You took the history, right?"

She opened the folder, "He's a 42 year-old, African-American male recently relocated from Phoenix. He works as a claims adjustor for an insurance company. Non-smoker, no hypertension, no diabetes although there's a family history. No recent travel outside of the country, just a road trip from Phoenix. Who lives in Phoenix?" She said to no one in particular.

"Thanks for the editorial." House commented. "So we've got these symptoms that could be anything, but in fact, it's just one thing."

They kicked it around for a while, ruling out tuberculosis, Churg-Strauss syndrome, PCP pneumonia, Wegener's Granulomatosis, scardiosis, lung cancer and the plague.

House, the infectious disease specialist, took it personally that he couldn't figure it out. "What's endemic to Phoenix? Besides sunburn." He asked Cameron, who typed something into her computer. "Hey, I found something. Coccidioidomycosis."

Foreman whipped his head around, "Valley Fever?"

Cameron looked up, "Yeah. You've seen it?"

"I've heard of it. Some guys I know at got it after the Northridge earthquake in '92. They got to stay home from school for a few weeks." He logged on and found some more information, "It says here that African-American men are five times more likely to develop disseminated coccidioidomycosis, the more severe form of it. Oh, this isn't pleasant, the cure is Amphotericin B."

Chase screwed up his face, "He'd probably rather have the disease."

House sighed, "I feel like we just cheated."

Cameron laughed, "What? You think that we're all walking medical encyclopedias? We have to memorize everything? The good news is that he didn't have a seizure in the MRI tube."

Later at dinner, House seemed moody. "I wonder when the other shoe's going to drop." He said quietly.

Cameron pushed aside the remainder of her dinner, "Other shoe?"

"It seems like for so long that I've had…issues. Now, even work is easy." He swallowed the last of his wine and stared out the window of his dining room.

"Looking for a challenge?" Cameron got up to clear the plates.

"No, leave that. We can do that in a minute. Have you ever felt like something was missing from your life?" He poured the last of the cabernet into his glass and walked over to the sofa.

"At some time or another. What's missing from yours?" She sat next to him.

"Pain." He said simply.

Cameron wore a puzzled look, "Pain? You mean physical pain?"

"Well, that too, but all that angst I used to have seems to be dissipating and there's an uncomfortable void." He sipped his wine. "It's hard to explain."

"You miss your angst?" Cameron tried to hide her amusement.

"Don't laugh. It defines me. I've always been a miserable bastard, but that's because I've got no social skills. Then I was lonely and sad. I was interesting. Women threw themselves at me. Now what do I have? I'm just a guy with a limp. The next thing you know I'll actually smile and adopt kittens. You're a bad influence." He grumped.

"I'm sorry. What if we went out and found some puppies to kick? Would you like that? You wanna kick some puppies?" She cajoled.

He looked at her scornfully. "I didn't realize how much of my day was taken up with misery. I have oodles of spare time now. And where are you? Let me consult the schedule." He held up the invisible timetable. "Oh, it's 4:15 on a Wednesday, it must be the time for the prom committee."

Now she laughed in earnest, "So what are you saying?"

"Come on. Move in. It'll be fun. We'll have slumber parties every night. We can read comics under the blankets with a flashlight. My Mom will never know." He pulled her close to him. "I'll make it worth your while."

"That sounds promising, but vague." She said, "Does that mean that you're ready for…"

"Go ahead say it. We're going to _do it_." He said, he saw that look on her face; the disapproving and resigned look. "I'll get us a room at the Plaza. Strawberries, champagne, chocolate, whipped cream, rose petals. Whatever you want."

"I get a discount if we go to The Ritz." She said simply, "but it's easier if we just stay home."

"I wanted an excuse to see _Spam-A-Lot_, but hey, home works for me too. I can buy new sheets, scented candles and special bath salts." He offered.

She moved close to him and lifted herself so that she straddled his lap, "Screw that, none of it matters. All you're doing is setting yourself up for performance anxiety. I don't need that." She closed her eyes and kissed him. "How about now?"

He looked at her, shocked, "as in _right now_?"

"Right now." She pulled off her T-shirt.

"_Right now_, right now?" He tried to shift his weight, but found that she had him pinned down.

"You probably have underwear on the floor, the sheets are a total mess and the only soap you have in your shower is Irish Spring. I don't care. You are the sexiest man I know and all I need is you." She pressed her bare skin against his cotton shirt. "There's something creepy about The Ramones looking at my rack. Why don't you lose that?" She helped him pull it off over his head. It messed up his hair.

He stared at her. Her long hair covered her upper body in just the right places. Her smile was sweet and tempting, her eyes shone with love, laughter and lust, all the best 'L' words. "Damn." He cursed.

"What? What's wrong?" She stopped kissing his throat.

"I can't stand up and carry you into the bedroom. That would have been so cool." He said, disappointed.

"Oh well, I can't carry _you_ either. That's okay, some guys can't get it up. That's not a problem you appear to be having. Let's count our blessings." She stood up and held out her hand. He allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He pulled her tight to him and kissed the top of her head. She felt a bolt of electricity go from the crown of her head through her body down to the floor. "Wow." She said in a whisper. It wasn't the last time she said it that night.

House stood at the stove scrambling eggs the next morning. She drank his strong coffee and buttered an english muffin. She found herself embarrassed. She had been a bit wanton the night before.

He walked over and scraped an enormous spoonful onto her plate. "You need to keep up your strength."

She blushed and ate a forkful. "Mmm. These are good. Chives?"

He nodded. "So? Are you moving in?"

"Because of the chives? Or the other?" Cameron found herself being deliberately obtuse. It was fun.

"Oh the chives. That's how I've bagged all my women." He handed her the peppermill.

Cameron chewed thoughtfully and finished her orange juice. "It's now or never, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's now, or next month, or next year. I'd just rather it be now. I'm known for my impatience though." He spooned preserves onto his muffin.

"You still want me here, even after last night?"

"What a weird thing to say. I want you here _especially_ after last night." He threw a grape at her.

"I thought you'd like some time to digest it all. Are you sure that you want me around all the time?" Cameron lowered her eyes.

"Yes." He tossed his fork down in exasperation. "I want you around all the time. At least you won't say that I make you lonely. You might say that you feel crowded or stifled or suffocated. That's an entirely different problem, and one we can negotiate if it crops up. But right now it makes the most sense for you to be here with me."

She tilted her head and looked at him, "You aren't like other men, are you House?"

"Duh." He said simply, taking a vicious bite of his muffin.

"I'll tell you what. I'll give notice at my place. Is that soon enough?" She threw the grape back at him.

He deflected it with his fork. "Thirty or sixty day?" He asked.

"Thirty." She confirmed.

"It'll have to do." He agreed.

"You know what's totally unfair?"

"What?"

"You won't even be able to help me with the boxes."

"I'll get Foreman, Chase and Wilson to lend a hand. I'll stand by and direct. I'll even clean out a closet for you. What could be more fair than that?"

She looked around. His place was austere, "My stuff will never fit in here."

"I'll move some things into the basement. What else?" He stood and went to stack the dishes into the dishwasher.

"That's it. Oh, I want the option to get a new duvet. Yours is ugly."

"Fine. Get a new duvet. Just don't expect me to go with you to pick it out. And nothing girly. What else?"

"How are we splitting the expenses?" She gathered up her things.

"Do I need to get a lawyer?"

She looked at her watch, "I've got to go now if I'm changing before work." She glanced down at his Pink Floyd T-Shirt, "Somehow showing up in this seems like a very bad idea." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"We'll work it all out. Don't do a spreadsheet!" He called after her.


	17. Alone Again Or

Alone Again Or

It had been easy enough to avoid her. The hospital is a big place and paths don't intersect by chance. Before she had forced herself upon his notice, House had gotten to the point where he rarely thought about Stacy Warner. Not that he thought of her by that name. Her married name. She had the other name before, _her_ name.

House didn't know this new Stacy. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't know the old one either. It was a typical love affair. Each hoping that the other would live up to the other's expectations. Disappointing all around. For too long he had attached undue importance to it.

He stood on the roof looking over the grounds of the hospital, the university and the town, all spreading out like the lawn at a country club. As summer dusk darkened, lights blinked on randomly.

Allison had been bringing things over to his house…their house…for the past week. Books, clothes, dishes, all the odds and ends that made up her life. Some things she elected to get rid of. An old sofa, a beat-up Ikea coffee table, things that could easily be replaced if… He didn't want to think about it. It was comforting seeing her things in his space.

The biggest surprise was a Himalayan cat named Roman. He was enormously fluffy and had the markings of a blue point Siamese. Luckily he didn't have the tendency to scream like a Siamese, so once he was introduced to his new surroundings he hunkered down in his favorite spot, under the bed, and only came out to eat and for his nightly brushing.

For weeks House had known that he wanted to have with Allison what he couldn't have with Stacy. He agonized over what was wrong with his previous relationship so that he could avoid the same issues in his new relationship.

He breathed in the thick, humid night air and waited for her to show up. He heard the door from the stairwell creak open and she stood in a suit and heels. "Sorry, my conference call ran late." She walked over and gave him a quick air kiss.

"Thanks for coming." He said simply.

"So what did you want to ask me?" Stacy smiled and leaned against the wall.

"You know that Allison Cameron and I…" He made a motion with his hand.

She nodded, "Yes. I heard." She concentrated on his face, watching there what he wasn't saying.

"Somewhere along the line, what once was good with us went wrong. What was it?" He asked; his voice flat and emotionless.

"Oh. An autopsy." She walked to the other side of the roof, her hair blowing in the soft summer wind.

"Exactly." He confirmed.

"Since when are you so introspective?" She turned towards him.

"I've avoided it for years. You know, wearing black, smoking clove cigarettes, listening to The Cure. But I'm trying it out. What do you think?" Flippant, his comfort zone.

"Much better. Might do you some good. Greg, I told you that you were…are The One for me." Stacy turned something on, it was seductive; she radiated a vibration that always made him pay attention.

He ignored it; it wasn't what he wanted. "Right, and yet, I'm all wrong for you. So when in the arc of our relationship did you figure that out?"

"I think that it was about six months after I left." She said quietly.

"I left." He corrected.

She smiled ruefully, "Interesting. Okay, have it your way; _you _left. I was sitting in my living room, eating ice cream and watching something interesting on television. I realized that I was more peaceful and happier than I had been in all the years I was with you."

"How much of that was relief?"

She inhaled deeply and fixed him with a stare, "So much."

"Oh."

"But not for the reason you think. Yes, you were miserable and cranky and oh, so very angry with me. But that's not what was hard. What was hard was that at a time when I should have been the one to comfort you, you were looking for comfort someplace else." Her face darkened with the memory of such an unhappy time.

"There was never anyone but you." He admitted, afraid to look into her eyes.

"It wasn't me that you needed. You needed your work." She forced him to look at her.

"I needed you." He confessed.

"You thought you did. I was just one of the things that occupied your time between cases. Greg, I don't know what's changed in the past six years, it might have been a lot. I suspect it's not very much. You are a man who lives to work. And that's fine, but I need more than that. I owe you, in a way, because you taught me that." She lifted her leg and rotated her ankle. Her feet ached after a long day in heels.

"You're the same way. You didn't even have a honeymoon after your wedding." He pointed out.

"That's why we stayed together so long, we're exactly the same. Boy, what a revelation _that_ was when I figured it out."

"So why didn't we work?" He implored her with his eyes to solve what was mysterious to him.

"The things that made us strong were our weaknesses." She pronounced.

"That's profound." He mocked, "Get that out of a book?"

"No. Think about it. You work too much, I work too much; we had each other only in our quiet times. Even then we were always looking for something to do. Run, golf, eat, fuck. We weren't quiet together. We were quiet apart." She stole a look at her watch. She was going to be late for dinner.

"So I'm not the only one thinking about this?" He ignored the silent cue to leave.

"When Mark and I started going out I thought about it a lot. In many ways he can't hold a candle to you. In the end though, he fits me better. He fills up my empty spaces." It sounded lame, even as she said it.

"But you love him?" He asked, knowing it was none of his business.

"Yes. In a way that works for me, I do." She said.

"He loves you more." House stated, understanding for the first time what she wanted.

"Yes." It was a challenge and an accusation.

"Ah." The light-bulb went off over his head. "Go ahead; I've kept you long enough." He dismissed her, in more than one way. "Thanks." He said as she walked away.

House remained on the roof for a while longer, enjoying the cool breeze as it became dark. He walked towards the door. It was time to go home and feed the cat.

Cameron sat on the sofa reading when he arrived home. It was easier to stay with him, now that most of her things were there. "So how did it go? Did you get what you needed?" Her glasses slid down to the edge of her nose. She pushed them up as she got up to kiss him.

"It went well. No blood was shed. No tears either." He followed her into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He had his hand on the neck of the bottle when he realized that he didn't want it. He put it back in the cupboard.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

"No. I waited for you." She said with her head in the fridge. "Unless you want lettuce with a side of lemon, I think we need to go out."

"But we have cat food, right?" He forgot to go to the market.

"Yes, cat food and toilet paper. The necessities." She smiled, "Chinese? Pizza? Burger?"

"Burger. You want to drive-through?" He hugged her from behind and nuzzled her neck.

She looked down at her shorts and tank top. "Yeah, that way I don't have to change."

They ended up at Stewart's a relic from the '50's. They sat in the car and ate, enjoying the old music. Kids came up and asked about the car and House pleasantly told them anything they wanted to know about it.

He took the long way home with the top down. When they got back Roman had splayed across the couch, directly on top of the newspapers House had left there that morning. "I think he wants you." He said.

Cameron got his brush, grabbed his hind leg and dragged him across the leather sofa. "Come here fuzzy, time for a little brushee." She started in on his grooming.

House took out a few sheets of music and started playing. Classical, just to keep in practice. Soon he was deeply into it, oblivious.

Cameron smiled, classical wasn't really her thing, but it was no skin off of her nose either. After a half-hour or so, the cat was finished and she got up to clean the brush. She picked up her book where she had left off. Soon House was finished with his piece and he turned to her.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt." He started.

She put her book down, "Hmm?"

"How did you feel when I played that?" He asked; he had an odd look on his face.

She bit her bottom lip, "How did I feel?" She feared that he was asking her opinion of the music itself; she hadn't been paying attention.

"Yes. Were you lonely?"

"Lonely? No. Are we talking about music?" She tilted her head and stared at him with her big, green eyes.

"No. Yes. Among other things." He selected a new piece of music and put it up on the rack.

"You know I prefer other kinds of music, but I don't _hate _classical. You weren't playing it for my amusement; you were playing it for your own. Right?" She didn't know where this was going.

"I was. Does it bother you?"

"What's this about? I kind of figured that a man who has a grand piano was more than _into_ music. I also figured that if you were the kind of guy who had a grand piano, that you probably liked classical music." She got up and rubbed his shoulders.

He turned to look up at her. "One of the things that Stacy said about our relationship was that she felt lonely. Do you feel lonely when we're together?" The shocking blue of his eyes bore through her.

"No. I feel comfortable. You're right here, how could I be lonely?" She paused, "I am at a really good part of my book, do you mind?" She again pushed her glasses up.

"You need to get those tightened." He turned back around and played _Begin the Beguine_. Roman pawed at his new hiding place on a large throw pillow behind an easy chair and had a nap.


	18. Mountain Greenery

Mountain Greenery

Allison Cameron sat on the floor of her nearly empty apartment. This would be the last time here; from now on she would be living with House. She observed the remaining boxes, mostly books, stacked in the corner. One more time she walked from room to room to insure that everything was organized and ready for the move.

Steeling herself, she inhaled and walked into the back bedroom. It was colder here than in any other room in the flat. It wasn't really a bedroom, although theoretically it might have held a twin bed. Most people either used it for a den or as Cameron did, for storage.

There were approximately twenty long-boxes full of comic books here, that and a cedar hope chest. She ran her hand across the white, plastic boxes and thumped on the last one. Solid, a proper memorial. She sat cross-legged on the floor and raised the lid of the hope chest. The familiar smell wafted up and she smiled.

The chest was her first piece of furniture, given to her by her parents for Christmas the year she turned fifteen. She moved the small, green afghan her grandmother had knitted for her when she was an infant. She had loved the needle pointed flowers on the panels when she was a baby. She lifted out the white satin album and heaving a deep sigh, opened it.

The first picture was of her in her wedding dress. Simple white lace, a fitted bodice. It was a profile shot, as though taken of her unaware. She was glancing down at the orchid covered prayer-book that she had carried instead of a wedding bouquet. Her veil obscured her face, but there was no missing that look of love, hope and fear. It was hard to look at even after all of these years.

She turned the page and saw the two of them standing at the altar exchanging rings. _Till death do us part_. She saw the typical wedding party photo. She, sitting in a chair, with her bridesmaids standing around her. When was the last time she spoke to them? She had heard that Kelsey married Bruce, but she hadn't been invited. She had lost touch with so many people over the years.

She closed the album and moved onto the shoe box. She opened it and looked at the small, white, lace up Nikes. She smiled at the memory of how excited she was, how hopeful too. Her pregnancy was evidence that God really didn't want her to be alone, without love; and when that ended, it was another sort of proof.

She moved on to the papers. Her diplomas and certificates. On days when she felt stupid, she'd find refuge here; she was smart enough to be a doctor, smart enough to get a fellowship, smart enough to know when to move on. And so she had.

Once she had gone with a friend to a book shop. Barbara had wanted to buy a pack of tarot cards and she had heard that this shop had a great selection. Allison had wandered the store abstractly looking at the different oils, crystals, powders and incense. All the things typical of a new age shop. The woman behind the counter saw her looking at something in the display case and had approached her.

"Is there something you'd like to see?" She asked.

"No, I'm just waiting for my friend." She had waved in Barbara's direction.

The woman seemed to be looking over her shoulder, her attention drawn to something behind her, an expression so rapt that Allison was forced to look behind her. "What?" She asked, getting a very creepy feeling.

"You are surrounded by people." The woman had said simply.

"I don't understand." Allison had replied; she was feeling very alone in the world.

"You have many angels looking over you." The woman explained, "I've never seen so many with just one person."

Allison grew angry, but tried not to offend the woman, "I wouldn't know."

"Sometimes it feels that way. You'll see some day." She laid her hand on Allison's shoulder and gave her a small smile. Then she walked over to help Barbara pick out her cards.

Allison shook her head at the memory and moved on, deeper into the trunk. She found the velvet box that held her wedding ring. She choose not to open it, instead, she looked at her promise ring. It was time to look to the future.

She regarded all the things that were most precious to her. Everything was attached to someone who had died. "I miss you." She said simply. To her husband, her grandmother, her child. She had arranged everything just as it had been. Laying it all to rest. She closed the lid and stood.

Although it was late and she could have slept in her own bed, that's not where she wanted to be. She picked up the phone and dialed, "I know that I told you that I'd just stay over here tonight, but I've decided to come home instead."

"I'm still up," he answered, "I'll leave the light on for you."

xxxx

The next morning she met Wilson, Chase and Foreman with a dozen donuts and a U-Haul. "I don't have a lot of confidence here, there's something scary about a company whose slogan is _Adventures in Moving_. I don't want to have adventures when I move." She said.

It didn't take long for them to load the small truck up. The larger items of furniture were being left behind for the Super.

Chase and Foreman carried the cedar chest tenderly, sensing its importance. By noon they were all packed up. While the guys mapped out the route they were going to take over to House's place, Allison came back one last time to lock up and to leave the keys. She looked around. The impressions on the carpet where things had been. The things she was leaving behind. She tried to feel some way about what she was doing. Was she afraid? Excited? Resigned? It wasn't any of those things.

She got into her car and followed the caravan to her new home. When they arrived House was sitting at the piano with the door open. He played a sprightly tune, "On the first of May, it is moving day…" He sang as they came through the door with her desk.

Chase put it in the small alcove Allison had indicated and complained, "It's not the first of May, it's the bloody dead of summer."

"Artistic license." House admitted. "There's lemonade or beer."

Chase brightened, "Or both, we can made Shandies!" He strolled into the kitchen to get a refreshing beverage.

Foreman followed him, "Shandy? That sounds disgusting. Let me try."

Allison wheeled in a hand-truck full of boxes with Wilson following behind with an end table. "You know, there really isn't that much stuff, we probably didn't need to rent the truck." He said, setting the table down next to the sofa.

"When you've moved as much as I have you learn a few things. The thing I've learned is that it takes a whole lot less time to do it in one trip. The truck is cheap at twice the price." She turned around to get another load.

Soon it was all in and the U-haul was back at the gas station where it lived. House had gone out for a bucket of chicken and they sat in the dining room eating it off of paper plates.

"Thanks for all of your help," Allison said, peeling the skin off of her piece. "I can't believe that it's all done."

Foreman looked around, "You've got all of this to unpack."

"Books. It should go fast," she picked at the meat with her fingers, "seriously, this is everyone's least favorite way to spend Saturday."

Chase was about to agree and decided that it hadn't been so bad after all. "Think you'll have it all put together before Thursday night?"

"Who are you kidding? She'll have it all put together before the Simpsons come on." House carped.

"You'll learn to love my organization." Cameron said, standing to take her plate into the kitchen.

Nobody wanted to leave so they congregated in the living room. House had put on the ball game and the guys sat around drinking and argued with Chase about how baseball was superior to cricket.

Roman had wandered in, enticed by the chicken, and sat in the middle of the living room. House stood, "You want to see something funny?" He got the metronome from the piano and set it down on the floor next to the cat. He turned it on and watched as Roman went side-to-side pawing at it.

"Hey, be nice to him." Cameron protested.

"He's playing. He likes it." House said, sitting back down on the sofa.

She looked at Roman, not normally an energetic animal, as he played. "Okay, but don't let him get too dizzy."

As she predicted, Cameron was able to get the boxes unpacked. She slid into bed later that evening, exhausted and happy.

House sat up reading a magazine, "So, is it all arranged to your satisfaction?"

"Yes. Pictures are hung, towels folded and books shelved." She sank into the bed, relaxing for the first time in days. "Oh. That feels great."

"Dewey Decimal or Library of Congress?" He asked, turning the page.

"Smart ass." She reached over and squeezed him.


	19. Longview

Longview

House sat in his easy chair hiding behind the newspaper and waited. The small, hard toy mouse on the floor in the middle of the den. He had baited the trap by putting a cat treat on the floor near it. Subtlety was the key.

After about ten minutes, House was about to give up in disgust. Roman had to be the world's laziest cat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him. He walked into the room as though he were just on his way somewhere more important. He couldn't have been less interested in the treat. He stopped and looked around. Only when he was sure that no one was watching him, he gobbled up the treat. He lifted his head and sniffed.

House smiled as Roman moved to investigate this new item. He bent his head down and nosed it, getting a good dose of catnip. House waited. Not all cats were affected by catnip, but Roman was. Soon he capered around the room. He did a bit of a dance on the floor, then he rolled around on his back. "Meow!" He stated, shocking House who had never heard him speak.

Roman jumped up on the entertainment center, knocking over a book. Then he leapt onto the back of the sofa. He arched his back and fluffed his fur out. House would have to see it again, to believe that he saw it the first time, but Roman performed a perfect back-flip.

Then, as though nothing had happened, Roman pawed at the cushion on the sofa and curled up to have a nap. Thoroughly entertaining and rewarding. Cameron poked her head into the room, "What was that?" She stooped down to pick up the book.

House peeked over his paper, trying mightily to wear an innocent look on his face. "What was what?"

"I thought I heard something fall." She scanned the room and saw the small lump on the floor. She bent over and picked it up. "What's this?"

"One of Roman's toys? I don't know, he's _your _cat." He pretended to read his paper.

"_I_ didn't buy this for him." She held it by the braided yarn tail. "What's in this anyway?" She sniffed it. "Is this _catnip_? Did you get my cat high?"

He again lowered his newspaper and affected a puzzled look, "What are you talking about?"

She walked over and picked up the snoozing cat, "Just say no." He batted at her, half-heartedly. She put him down, he licked his paw and shut his eyes. "Daddy is a bad influence." She started to exit the room only momentarily halted by the appalled look on House's face.

The next day House sat with Wilson in the cafeteria cutting the part of the bread that had dared to touch the pickle off of his reuben. "She referred to me as Daddy." He complained.

Wilson dropped his fork. "I _so_ don't want to hear this."

"She was speaking to the cat." House explained, trying to control his blush.

"I don't follow." Wilson peppered his hard-boiled egg.

"I am the cat's _daddy_." House explained contemptuously. "You can stop laughing, it's not funny."

"You're wrong, it's hilarious." Wilson giggled. "Do you dress him up in outfits and wheel him around the neighborhood in a stroller?"

"I'm sorry I told y…"

"No! I know! You both hold him at night and talk to him in baby-talk under the covers. Is he your 'ittle fluffy-wuffy boy?" He laughed hysterically, a tear formed at the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek. He flicked it away, "Damn, I needed that. Seriously House, you're becoming domesticated. You're losing your edge."

Cuddy had rolled up on them while House was distracted. "Hey, I need you in the clinic this afternoon. Borland can't make it." She started to move away quickly, having learned that hanging around only resulted in excuses and abuse.

House had opened his mouth to say something, but she was already halfway across the dining room. "Damn."

"See? Soft." Wilson took another bite of salad and chuckled. "Daddy."

xxxx

Cameron, Foreman and Chase sat around the conference room table with a stack of charts. Cameron dictated while the two men played with a triangular, paper football.

"…ten milligrams of epinephrine, followed by…Hey!" The paper went awry and caught her on the cheek.

"Sorry." Chase apologized as she slid it across the table at him.

She finished dictating the information and put the chart aside. "I'm bored."

Forman laughed. "Yeah. Well, it's slow."

"No, I mean I'm bored with our cases. I'm bored with you guys. I'm bored…period." She pushed back from the table.

"You bored with House?" Foreman asked.

"No. You can't be bored with House, but there's something missing." She slid her foot out of her shoe.

Foreman held up his index fingers as a goal-post for Chase. "Line it up better."

"So you played this all though high school?" Chase shook his head.

He turned towards Cameron, "Yeah, there's not an awful lot written about happily ever after. So the excitement's worn off?"

"I don't know how to describe it. I've got everything I ever wanted. Work is good, my personal life is good, it's all here. Now what do I wish for?" She took off her glasses and wiped them.

Foreman grinned, "Nobel Prize?"

"Well, yes, there's always that. How do you say 'thank you' in Swedish?" She mused.

"_Jag tackar_," House replied from the doorway. "I've been practicing." He limped in and sat down. He noted the stack of charts, "anyone would be bored with these. Once I'm done with something, I have no interest in it anymore." He held up his own goal-post for Chase, "Is this Australian rules or regular."

Chase thwacked the 'ball', "Hey, right between the uprights!"

"Good job. You got the extra point." House stood again. "I am sensing a distinct feeling of ennui around here."

"_That's_ what I'm feeling!" Cameron cried.

"Gee. Thanks." Houses said, feigning hurt feelings.

"Since when are you responsible for how I feel?" She said testily, "taking the whole weight of the world on your shoulders." She grumbled under her breath.

He turned away from her, it never paid to annoy her when she was on a roll. "I think we should author a paper."

Three heads turned towards him. Foreman was the first to speak, "That would be amazing."

All three knew that publishing a peer reviewed article in a medical journal would be a boost to their careers. They also knew that if they co-authored with House that it was certain to be published.

Chase sat up, "So what would we write about?"

Cameron perked up, "JAMA's having a theme issue on women's health in March of next year. Maybe we can do something for that." She suggested.

"I'd rather target The Lancet." Chase said, noting his colleagues dirty looks, "Come on, it's more prestigious than JAMA. It's British." As if that explained it.

House looked at him, "But then we'd have to spell funny."

"You already spell funny." Chase countered.

"I have an idea." He said. Actually, he didn't. He came up with this on the spur of the moment, but he felt a divine guidance and continued. "Let's write about differential diagnosis in cases where two or more factors are at work."

Foreman sat up, "Like when the patient is taking an herbal supplement that causes symptoms apart from her disease?"

"Or the patient has two diseases, like in AIDS." Cameron chimed in.

"Exactly." House agreed stepping up to the whiteboard to begin outlining. "Let's pull our cases from the last year." He indicated the pile of charts, "I think those are they? How far behind on this are we?" He shook his head, knowing that it was primarily his fault that they were behind in the first place

Soon they had a pile of their cases which provided a good foundation for their research. He left them chattering with excitement as he went to the clinic. He ran into Cuddy who was delegating patients.

"I can't believe that you're actually here, voluntarily, on-time." She consulted her watch. "I should have gotten you laid years ago."

"You had your chance." He said.

"What's the team working on?" She ignored him and changed the subject.

"We're writing a paper." He said. "They're researching."

She nodded. "Good idea. You haven't published in a while. What's the topic?"

"Multi-variable, differential diagnosis." He surveyed the waiting room and grabbed a chart, "Hey, this guy might have malaria."

"Really?" Cuddy snatched it from him to see.

"No." He took it away from her. "But it would be neat if he did. That's the problem with practicing medicine. Ninety percent of everything you're ever going to see, you see in the first year. After that you're just going through the motions, waiting for the ten percent that relieve the boredom."

"You've got a patient waiting for in you in two." She pointed him towards the exam room and handed him the chart.

"Ninety percent." He said as he opened the door to a man blowing his nose into a tissue.


	20. Long Strange Trip

Long, Strange Trip

House gave Wilson a look and pushed through the glass door into the small reception area. He looked around the room at the burnt orange sofa, the pop machine and the junkie in the corner. "I don't belong here." House tried to turn around to leave, but Wilson put his hand on his back as encouragement.

The intake clerk looked up at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes." He said simply. It had gotten to this point. He was just another sad addiction story.

The clerk continued to write in the chart and pointed to a sign in sheet. "We'll call you when we're ready. Have a seat over there." She waved in the direction of sofa.

The junkie got up and bought himself an orange soda. His hands shook while he drank it. He spilled some on the chair he was sitting on. It blended right in.

"I think this is a very bad idea." House grew desperate to get out of there and stood up to make his escape.

"Do you know how hard this study is to get into?" Wilson growled. "I owe about seven favors. Now sit your ass down."

"You know, when you speak to me like that, people think that we're together." House fidgeted with his cane.

"It wouldn't be the first time. You should be flattered. I can do better." Wilson checked his pager and found that there were no new messages.

The junkie coughed and turned to him, "You're right. You can."

"Dude." Wilson said and turned his head.

Finally he was called back and the intake clerk sat across the desk from him, writing on a Xeroxed form. He noticed that there was no name on the chart, only a number.

"Okay, so you've been taking pain medication for a chronic condition since 1999." She noted the chart. "You're up to 60 milligrams?"

"Actually, I'm down from 80." It was a pathetic boast.

"So that was as much as you've ever taken?" The pen scratched across the page.

"Well, some days I'd take more. You know." House shrugged.

"How many alcoholic drinks do you have in a week?" The pen paused, waiting for his response.

"Two per night? Sometimes more, sometimes less." He shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair.

"Fourteen, fifteen per week?" She checked a box.

"Well, when you put it like that…" He realized it sounded pretty bad. "Yes." He was in hell.

"Okay, finally, do you believe that you are addicted to your pain killers?" Her pen stopped and she raised her face to his.

He looked into her eyes and admitted, "Yes."

She remained dispassionate, refusing to judge him, or to allow him pity. "Fine. Now, this is a double-blind study. You'll be assigned a number and from here on, that's how we'll know you. You need to sign this. It states that you agree to abide by the protocols of our study. Basically, you'll slowly reduce your doses of traditional pain killers while incorporating certain pain management techniques. Some of these are considered to be alternatives to traditional medicine. You will be tested weekly to insure that you are adhering to the dosages that we approve. The object is to understand how pain can be managed and if these alternatives can help with the alleviation of pain." She pushed the paper towards him.

House didn't even read it. He signed. He was ready to face this; he was ready to get better. "So what's it going to be? Bio-feedback? Yoga? Macro-biotic diet?"

She smiled for the first time that day and walked to the file cabinet. "Do you want what's behind door number one, or what's in the box?" She came back to him with a largish box. "I have no idea what's in there. Open it up when you get home and follow the instructions. We'll see you next week."

House put the box under his arm and limped back into the reception area. The junkie had cornered Wilson and was in the middle of relating his life story. "Have you ever been married Man?"

When he saw House, Wilson jumped up and rushed to help him with the box. "So? How was it?"

"Let's get out of here." House had his keys in his hand and was hustling out the door.

"So dude! Am I going to see you again?" The junkie called out to Wilson.

When they got home, House put the box on the dining room table and got out his pocket knife. He sliced into the top of the box and opened it.

Wilson's eyes shone, "It's like Christmas."

"It's like Christmas in Marin County. I wonder if there are Birkenstocks in there." House pulled out the first item. "Great, it's a journal." He thumbed through it. He was to record his pain levels, emotions, and observations three times a day. The next thing was a relaxation tape. "Crap. Meditation."

"Are you going to do it?" Wilson wanted to prowl through the box, but respected House's desire to inspect each item.

"Yes. In for a penny, in for a pound. It's for science after all." House returned to the box. "Here's some good news. I get to keep eating what I normally eat."

"That's good news for the Hershey Corporation." Wilson observed.

House pulled out the last of the items in the box. It was a white plastic box. The paper wrapped around it said 'tea' and suggested that a teaspoon of loose leaves steeped for 2 minutes would help with reducing stress. House sniffed at it experimentally. "Damn!" A smile spread across his face. "What does this smell like?" He shoved it under Wilson's nose.

Wilson pushed it away. "Stop!"

"I'm serious. Smell it." Wilson took a whiff. "No way. That smells like…"

"Otto's jacket. James, for the first time since I decided to do this I am a happy man." He got up and started rifling through drawers.

"What are you doing?" Wilson stood up.

"I'm looking for a pipe. I thought I might still have one." His shoulders sagged. "There's no way I'm making tea out of this."

Wilson smiled and went into the kitchen. He rustled around in the recycling and came back with an empty pop can. "Give me your knife." He pressed in the sides of the can and drilled a hole on one side of the can; on the top he made a small screen with the tip of the knife. "I think we're in business. Got a lighter?"

"What if it's not pot?" House said, handing him a Zippo with a skull on it.

"What the hell is this?" Wilson looked at it.

"Present from a biker I treated once. Knew it would come in handy. Come on, spark it up." House could barely contain his excitement.

Wilson put a few leaves on the screen and his thumb on the hole. He lit the leaves with his right hand and inhaled, controlling the air with the thumb-hole. A plume of smoke wafted up and the unmistakable smell of cannabis wafted over towards House.

"Gimme! It's mine." House took the can and the lighter and soon he was holding a mouthful of smoke. "Oh my God. That takes me back. This is really pot. I thought this was illegal."

Wilson giggled, "Maybe they put the box together before last month's supreme court ruling. It's a double-blind study; they have no way of knowing who has what. You're a lucky bastard you know?"

House laughed. "Yeah, I might have lost the use of my leg, but I can get high like some punk at the 7-11. Speaking of which, I need a supply of Oreos and some rolling papers. This homemade pipe won't cut it."

Within an hour they returned with what looked like a twelve-year old's Halloween haul. They had also stopped at Taco Bell.

Cameron arrived home at seven and was surprised to find them sprawled out on the sofa watching _The Young Ones_ on DVD. Roman lounged between the two of them languidly watching them volley a wadded up candy wrapper back and forth. The remnants of their binge remained on the coffee table. She sniffed the air, "What's that smell?"

House giggled, "She has no idea."

"She's very serious." Wilson agreed.

House turned to her, "You never went to a frat party at all in college?"

Now it was Wilson's turn to giggle.

"What?" Cameron was truly mystified. "Are you drunk?"

House could barely speak for laughing, "No."

She shook her head and went into the other room, "I'm doing my treadmill. Sober up or something."

They both laughed loudly. House reached over to his journal. He spoke as he wrote, "Dear Diary, today I became a woman." Wilson dissolved into helpless laughter. "Check this out." He reached over for the hemostat and the roach that was on the end of it. House lit it and rather than inhaling he blew through it towards Roman.

Roman pawed at the smoke, but most of it went straight up his nose. He touched his nose a couple of times and sneezed.

House reached for another Oreo. "Now I'm going to have to share with him."

Wilson became serious, "You know that you're not supposed to become addicted to pot."

"Not pot. Medical marijuana. There's a difference." House professed, putting the lid on his precious box.

"Not any more. It's all illegal. Every last stem, seed and leaf. We could be arrested." Wilson sat up. "This is very irresponsible."

"No. What if it really is some kind of tea? What if we're just naturally silly like this?" House sat up and rubbed Roman's stomach. "He's a good cat." He said in a small, _talking to the cat_, voice.

"Yeah. That must be it. Should I drive home? It was just tea." Wilson didn't look like he was going anywhere.

"Better stay here." House said, "You can do the relaxation tape with me."


	21. Meet the Parents

Meet the Parents

House got home late. He had to sit in an interminable Department Heads meeting. He wanted to lay in bed and watch cartoons. If he could eat a bowl of cereal while doing it, so much the better.

He grabbed a bowl of raisin bran and headed back into the bedroom. He expected her to be in bed, reading a magazine or doing one of her many solitary activities. It had been established early on that she needed her 'alone time.'

He saw that she was on the phone, so he slid next to her and crunched while she talked.

_Sister_. She mouthed to him. "Yes. He just got home. No, I'll tell him in a minute. So what did Meemaw say?" She laughed. "I'll bet. So what's the hurry then?" She listened and House could hear a female voice on the other end.

"Annie?" He asked.

She shook her head, "Next weekend? That should be okay. What's she wearing?"

More talking from the handset. "Amy?"

Again, she shook her head, "So they're just wearing what they wore for Andie's wedding? How mad are they?" More laughter. "And Andie is wearing Mandy's dress? I'll pay money to see that."

"By the process of elimination I deduce that you are talking with Abby." He put his spoon in the bowl and was about to set it down on the nightstand."

Cameron pointed and whispered, "Kitchen." He sighed and took the bowl into the kitchen. She turned her attention to the phone, "Can we get our own chalet? I don't know how he's going to be." She paused for the response, "You can't blame me; you remember how they were with Bobby. So Meemaw, Granny and Cookie are going to make supper then? I'm starting a diet now. Okay, let me break it to him. I love you too. I'm excited!" She squeed as House returned.

"Oh dear God, now what?" He slid out of his clothes and got under the covers.

"My niece Mandy is getting married and we're invited." She waited for the explosion.

"How did she escape the curse of the 'A' name?" He scooted in close to her.

"Amanda. I'm going and I want you to come with me. Meet the family." She said, catching his roaming hand.

"They don't want to meet me. You know how I am."

"That's why you're going to be on your best behavior." She kissed his hand and moved towards him, kissing his forehead, "It's next weekend. Oh, boss, I need some time off. Do you think that'll be a problem?" She kissed him again.

"I suppose I can leave Foreman in charge." He shrugged, "It had to happen one day."

"You'll love them, they'll love you. It'll be fine."

xxx

House rubbed the patient's glands as he complained to Wilson. "I'm meeting her family this weekend."

"Great, so is this a special trip or is there an occasion?"

The patient looked at House, "What's he doing here?"

"He's consulting." House explained, tapping on his back.

"Am I that sick?" The patient grew concerned.

"No. You have a cold. I'm the one he's consulting on. Go home, stay in bed and drink plenty of liquids." He noted the chart as the patient swung down off the exam table. "Close the door on your way out." He turned back to Wilson, "It's a wedding. Her niece. Shotgun we think, but you never know with the Country Bear Jamboree."

Wilson laughed, "You can't call them that to their faces." He saw the look on House's face, "You can't. They might actually _have_ shotguns. So where is this shindig?"

House rolled his eyes, "Gatlinburg, Tennessee."

"Where?" Wilson had never heard of the place.

"It's somewhere between Knoxville and Deliverance. If I hear banjos, I'm hauling ass out of there."

Wilson held the door open for him, "It's not going to be that bad."

"You're saying that because you don't have to go. We're staying in a chalet." He fixed Wilson with a disgusted look. "A chalet."

"Sounds…homey. Greg, people have families. I'm sure even you have one somewhere. If you blow this, you might blow everything you have with her. She's very close to them."

"I know. No pressure." He looked to his friend for help, "So what do I do? You've been through this a few times."

"It's a wedding? Easy, they'll all be distracted with the event. You'll want to bond with the brothers-in-law. Give a generous gift, money is best. Oh, and be very solicitous of Allison. They need to see that you're taking care of her."

"There's the age thing…" He said, worried.

"All the more reason to fit in with them. Relax, they want to like you." Wilson tried to sound encouraging, "As bizarre as that seems."

"Thanks. I feel _much _better."

xxx

Allison had everything folded in stacks on the bed. She checked things off of her list. "Keds, jeans, dress, sandals. Where's my purse?" She moved a pile aside and located the handbag, "Okay, I think this is it."

House stood in the doorway. "You know that I'm not good with suitcases."

"Don't worry, mine has wheels." The clothes started to disappear into the bag.

"What will your family say; me letting you lug the bags around?" He grew thoughtful.

She stopped for a moment and put her hand on his shoulder. "Greg, you are going to have to get over it. You are a wonderful, caring man, and if you could carry my suitcase, you would. So you can't. Big deal."

"But…" he started.

"If you're trying to drag me into some argument about something neither of us can control, I'm much too busy." She pushed him aside, "I've got to get something from the other room." She stopped and ruffled his hair, "Stop worrying. They'll love you. Even worse, you'll love them."

xxx

The flight to Atlanta was short and uneventful. The walk from the gate to baggage claim was interminable. House stuck his cane up in the air and flagged down one of the courtesy carts. "Come on, I might not be able to carry you around like a princess, but with me, you'll always have a place on the golf cart."

Once they had the bags they stood out on the curb and waited. She rooted around in her bag and found her cell phone. She dialed, "Yup, we're here. Okay, wait is that you?" She waved, and an enormous SUV pulled up.

A slightly older version of Allison jumped out of the passenger seat, "Ali!" "Abby!" They squealed and hugged each other.

House waved in the direction of the driver, who waved back and shrugged in embarrassment. "Hey Greg, you got that okay?"

The women got the bags heaved into the tailgate while House figured out how to get up into the back seat. He felt a gentle push on his posterior and found himself riding high as they sped up I-85. Allison held his hand as she chatted with her sister and her brother-in-law.

"So what are the kids doing?" Allison asked her sister, who had turned around in the front seat.

"Alana just got back from cheer camp, she's varsity this year. Simon drove all the counselors crazy in Vacation Bible School" Abby rattled on, "Wait until you see Alana in her uniform."

"She looks like a Hooters waitress." Ben, Abby's husband grumbled. "They had a bikini car-wash to pay for them."

House chuckled, "Keeping a daughter in clothes isn't just a matter of finances."

"You aren't kidding; don't ask about her prom dress." He zipped across the lane to avoid plowing into a Toyota. "What is that guy doing in the HOV lane? The idea is to go fast, moron!" He maneuvered back into the lane. "If we don't get out of downtown before five, we'll get hung up in traffic."

House looked out the window. It was bumper to bumper, but everyone was doing seventy. "This isn't traffic?"

"No, this is light. I'm glad you got an early flight. Getting across town any later is murder." He zoomed across five lanes and took the exit. "Great, we're only a few minutes away."

They drove down a tree lined road. The turned into a subdivision filled with large, older homes. They pulled up to a three-car garage and everyone piled out of the SUV. Ben and Allison moved to the back of the truck and quickly got the luggage into the front door.

Alana and Simon held up a homemade banner that said '_Welcome Aunt Ali and Dr. Greg_'. "Oh, you guys!" Allison said, running to give them a big hug. "It's good to see you." Alana, who had just turned sixteen, had the same dark hair and light eyes as her mother and aunt. She wore a short ruffled skirt and a small T-shirt. She had the same build, tall and thin, but curvaceous as well. No wonder her father worried. Her brother, Simon, had the dark hair and deep, brown eyes, like his father. He was thirteen and gawky, but he had a very sweet face.

House looked around the entry way. The house was large and comfortable. They all went into the kitchen/family room. Ben reached into to the fridge and came out with a beer, "Greg, Ali, you guys want one?"

House reached out his hand, "You are a lifesaver."

"Do you have water?" Allison asked.

Ben gave her a look. "No. Fresh out. Tequila do?" He threw her a bottle of Publix water. He got one out for Abby and cracked the top for her.

Allison gulped down nearly half the bottle, "So what's for dinner? If you haven't planned anything, Greg and I want to take you out."

Abby looked at Ben, "Well, we could barbecue, usually we go out. What do you want to do?"

House watched as they decided.

Allison thought for a moment, "It doesn't make sense to make a mess. Let's go out. Outback's good, or we can get a pizza. I can go either way." She looked to House, "Do you have any preference?"

"None whatsoever. I'm here to see and be seen. Anything else is incidental." He sipped his beer and waited for a decision to be made.

"I've got a ton of stuff to do before we take off tomorrow," Abby said, "Mellow Mushroom and Brusters, then back here so I can run around like a chicken with my head cut off. How's that sound?" She shouldered her purse and called upstairs, "Kids! We're going to dinner!" Two faces peeked over the railing. Alana was on the phone and Simon held a Game Boy. "Let's go. Now!" They trundled down the stairs.

Everyone piled into the SUV for the short ride to the pizza place. They snagged a table and reviewed logistics. Abby took a sip of her tea and explained the arrangements. "I figure if we can get on the road by ten that we can be up there by around two or three, depending on what we do for lunch. "We can check in to the cabins then go on to Meemaw's for the dinner. I think that they're doing the rehearsal the following day, but there's nothing formal."

"Are we going to the rehearsal?" Allison asked, nibbling a salad.

"Alana's in the wedding…" Abby started.

"In that stupid dress. I was going to wear it for Halloween. I was going to go as a prom zombie." Alana complained.

Abby gave her a look and continued, "Alana's got to go to the rehearsal. She might go with the other girls. But you don't have to go."

Alana sighed, "I don't know why we have to rehearse. I've been in four weddings already, it's fairly straightforward. Is Uncle Dave doing this one?"

"No, he's her father; he's walking her down the aisle. I think he got the youth minister to do it." Abby pushed some hair out of her daughter's face. "It'll probably be the same ceremony though. I think he's got a sentimental attachment."

Alana giggled, "These rings are a symbol of your love, they are forged in fire and they have no beginning and no end."

Abby sipped again, "Okay, very funny, so he hasn't changed it in twenty years. It's fine."

House smiled, "Are we taking any action on this?"

Ben laughed, "Five bucks says it's the same ceremony."

"I'm the newcomer, and I'm naturally contrary. I'm guessing that it will be a new and improved version." He held out his hand and they shook on it.

Allison perked up, "So we've got a day just to mess around. Let's go to Cherokee!"

Ben toasted her with his beer, "That's a great idea. We'll dump the kids on Scott and Amy and we'll hit the tables. Greg do you like blackjack?"

"Sure, but I hardly ever get to play." He admitted. Ben topped off his glass.

"No fair!" Alana protested. "I'll get stuck with all the kids."

Abby just looked at her., "It sucks to be you."

Alana sulked and House marveled at how a behavior could travel within a family. "So what's the drive like?" He said, changing the subject.

After dinner and a trip to the ice cream stand, they returned to the house. They were billeted in the guest room. A picture hung over the bed of a young girl feeding rabbits leaves of lettuce. _Another Watership Down_. House looked up at it, "That is incredibly sweet."

Allison smiled, "Do not dog the bunny print House," she threatened, "I love that picture. It hung over my bed for most of my childhood." She kissed her hand and touched each of the rabbits. "Good night bunnies."

House pretended to wretch, "I was so hoping you weren't going to regress."

"Oh, this is nothing. Wait until we get to Meemaw's. Oh, and Mommy and Daddy. It's going to get worse before it gets better." She slid next to him and gave him a kiss.

"Get away from me. I'm no pedophile." He was finding it hard to stick to his resolve.

"I'm no child. Do I have to prove it to you all over again?" Her hands were making it hard for him concentrate.

He kissed her, allowing his hands to do things to distract her, "What was I saying?"


	22. N Gravy

N Gravy

House looked out the window; they were about an hour north of Atlanta traveling on a very old road. It was easy to imagine people in beat-up jalopies traveling to find work during the depression. Old barns stood in the middle of fields and occasionally there would be a house or a gas station or some other random business on the side of the road.

Allison and Alana sat in the very back whispering intently about something. Simon had plugged into the DVD system and was watching X-men, probably for the 100th time. Ben had satellite radio and had tuned in Car Talk. House sighed and took out his Game-Boy. He popped in a cartridge and started his game. Simon glanced over and watched for a few moments. He fished around in his backpack and came up with a link cord. Soon the two of them were playing together.

About thirty minutes south of the North Carolina border, they hit a town called Clayton. Whimpering rose from the backseat, at least that's what it sounded like through the ear buds. House paused the game and took them out. "What?"

"We need to get a card and I think I forgot something. We're stopping at Wal-Mart." Allison explained.

Ben pulled into the parking lot. "We're making good time, but don't take too long." House normally avoided outings to stores ending in 'mart', but this one seemed to have all sorts of interesting things. He followed as the women went down the card aisle. Quickly they grabbed what they needed and moved on to clothing. Ben had gone to use the restroom, "I'll be waiting impatiently at the exit."

House stopped briefly to check out the T-shirts. He picked one with a skull on it in his size and threw it in the cart. While Alana stopped to look at pajamas, House noted that there were sleep pants with the Duff beer logo on them. Those too went in the cart. After a quick trip down the sundries aisle for blue nail polish and three disposable cameras later they were ready to get back on the road.

"Mom, when are we going to eat?" Simon asked, neatly attacking House's man, gaining some of his power. Simon cackled.

"You'll pay," House promised and went after one of Simon's men.

"Let's get across the state line." She said wearily. "How can you be hungry?"

"I'm a growing boy. I have a hollow leg. I'm going to be tall." Simon explained, deftly avoiding House's attack.

Ben chimed in, "I'm hungry too."

Abby sighed; men were never going to be content with a stick of gum and a bottle of water. "Fine. How about Franklin? There's lots of stuff in Franklin. Do we want to sit down, or drive through?"

Alana said, "I'm getting a salad, so we should sit down. I _hate_ eating out of my lap in a moving vehicle."

"Greg? Ali? Any preference?" She wiped her sunglasses with a soft cloth as she asked.

"Nope, none for me. Dammit!" House tried to hit the fire button, but too late, Simon had wounded his guy. "Simon, I'm gunning for you."

"A real threat would come with no warning." Simon said cryptically.

"Crap." House turned his attention to his game.

"How about fast food, but we eat it inside?" Allison aimed for a compromise.

Without looking up from his game Simon asked, "So how much longer? Can I have a snack now? I wish I had a prehensile tail, that way I could eat chips while I played." He bit his lip and smiled, "I've got you Dr. Greg. You're going down!" Three taps on his button and he looked up.

"What did you do?" House tried to bring it back, but all he saw was a funeral procession. "The whole team? Everyone? Even my donkey?" His shoulders sagged. "You cheated."

Simon's cackle made Allison laugh. "Of course he cheated. But you know better than anyone that cheating is just another strategy."

After a quick lunch they drove through another small town. Allison looked out the window, "This sure is pretty. I could live here." She said, noting a small yellow cottage where peaches and pecans were for sale in small baskets on the porch.

"Really?" House was surprised, "there's no way I'd live all the way out here."

"As long as you had Internet access and Amazon to deliver books to you, what difference does it make where you live? She turned in her seat so Alana could put her hair in a french braid. "Ow, not so tight."

"Quit complaining. You've had it tighter for competition. Since when are you so tender-headed?" Alana held her hair in one hand and a comb in the other.

House couldn't help but notice how young she looked with her niece, they could have been sisters. "It makes a difference. I like being near a big city. You know, for the culture."

"Atlanta is only two hours away. It would be peaceful. I'm not talking about now, I'm talking about retirement. Just sit out here, rock on the porch and visit with my family. That would be really nice. Besides, your idea of culture is Spam-A-Lot and a visit to Forbidden Planet for comics." She sat still as Alana's fingers worked their magic.

"Hey, that's culture." He said, staring out the window. It _was_ pretty. Pretty remote.

Within an hour they had gone through most of North Carolina. Admittedly, it was a thin part of the state. They pulled into Cherokee and as the name implies, it was the Cherokee Reservation. As they headed towards the Great Smoky Mountain Parkway they went through a touristy part of the small town. There were open air stands selling pottery, plants, Indian souvenirs and other things of that nature. Every so often kids walked down the street holding scaled down replicas of rifles.

"Mom! Can we come down here and go tubing?" Simon referred to happy picnickers floating on yellow inner tubes in a shallow river.

"It's up to your uncle." Abby said from the front seat, "But I don't see why not. That would be a nice activity for you kids. Maybe you could roast some weenies or something."

"Cool." He had tucked away his Game-Boy and put in a new DVD, Hellboy.

"So we're just thirty-five miles away now?" House asked.

Ben checked his odometer, "Yes, but it'll take us about an hour, then another hour once we get to Gatlinburg."

House raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"The traffic is awful. I feel sorry for the people coming off of 40, getting through Sevierville is a nightmare." Abby confirmed.

The road through the Smokies was narrow and winding, and the scenery was beautiful. Waterfalls and vast expanses of trees everywhere. It was steep in some areas, but it didn't keep the caravan of weekend travelers from coming down or going up.

"Can you imagine coming here as a pioneer? Just look at all of these trees, what would you have made of it?" Allison marveled at the majesty of it.

"I have no idea. I don't think my family has ever been further away from the city than fifty-miles in five generations." House admitted. It was frightening to contemplate in a way. "Seems kind of lonely."

"Or secluded. It's not lonely when you're with your family. Imagine log cabins with well-worn paths between them. Maybe they all got together on Sunday's and holidays." She seemed to have drifted off to that place and time. "This would be your backyard."

"The road is interesting. I wonder why they did this." House mused.

"It's been here since just after the Louisiana Purchase, mostly for lumber and fur traders, but this part of it was a WPA project. But there was talk of having this be a protected park as early as the twenties, mostly by men in an automobile club out of Knoxville." Ben explained.

"Wow." House looked at the hand-built stone retaining wall.

Finally, they came out of the forest and rolled to a stop at a congested intersection. House had to look behind him to believe that he had just been in a wild and secluded national park.

What he saw boggled his mind. Streets chock-a-block with motels, restaurants, and shops. Ben inched the SUV through the town trying to observe traffic rules without letting pedestrians hold him up by streaming across the street. "What are they all here for?"

"I was about to ask you the same question. Besides _Ripley's Believe it or Not_ and the Earthquake ride, what exactly is the attraction?" House asked.

Allison sighed, "When you get into the hills you'll understand. It's beautiful. This is a bit much, but some people like it."

"Gee, I don't know Allison; I don't really want to visit a place where I have to walk more than five steps to buy fudge." House stared at the droves of people eating things out of greasy paper sacks. "What's up with all these places selling swords?"

Simon touched him on the arm, "Between the SCA and the Civil War reenactment people, these guys sell a lot of swords." He stated authoritatively.

They passed a motel advertising a breakfast buffet that included _Biscuits n Gravy_. House turned around in his seat. "Wow. N gravy. That's high falutin."

"You know, my mother said never go with a guy who'd feed you O gravy. It's N or nothing."

"You know baby, with me, it's first class all the way. Nothing but M gravy."

She laughed as Simon chimed in, "Once, on Iron Chef, the secret ingredient was B gravy."

House joined in, "But you can only get that during certain times of the year, and it's more expensive than gold."

Alana wanted in on the fun, "But forget about P gravy. That's strictly for prisoners."

They all laughed, a but punchy from being in the car for so long. Finally they came out of the downtown area and into the hills. A bit of a drive up and around the bend and they started looking for their turn off. Abby had a paper with instructions written on it, "Look for Hidden Hills Drive."

House laughed and heads turned towards him, "Hidden. How can we find it if it's hidden?" He explained.

Nobody laughed.

Allison patted him on the hand, "Yes dear. That's very funny."

"But not as funny as the gravy." Alana added.

They found the turn and immediately made a right onto a street that seemed to be a ninety degree angle upward. "Yikes, how does anyone get up this in snowy weather?"

"You'd be surprised." Ben said, shifting into a lower gear. They pulled into a wooded area with paved streets. Various log cabins stood in neat rows, nestled into the trees. Each one had a wooden plaque with a name on it. Abby went out and in a few minutes returned with keys. She had a silly grin on her face. "Okay, here we go." She handed a key to Allison, "You've got Love Nest."

House groaned. "You made that up."

"Fraid not." She said, "We've got Gentle Ben." She rubbed her husband's shoulder.

"You made that up." Ben complained.

"Not that either. Okay, just go down that road and turn left." She instructed. The cabins were next to each other.

Simon and Allison got their bags out and they went into the cabin. It was an A-frame made of round logs. The first level was a great room with kitchen, living space, a bumper pool table and television. Downstairs there was a king-sized bed and a bath featuring a heart-shaped Jacuzzi, a fireplace stood in the corner. "Romantic." House said and he poked his head out onto the deck where a hot tub stood. "Very romantic."

House looked around; it was all very clean and not a bit rustic. More like a city-dweller's idea of what a log cabin would be. "It looks like Hee-Haw blew up in here." He said of the décor, which could only be described as 'country casual'.

"I think it's cute." She said, her suitcase thumping as she rolled it down the stairs. "Why don't you hang out here for a bit? Watch some TV or something. Abby and I are going to the store for a couple of things and for some girl-time. If you'd rather, you can go hang out next door."

"I think I'll have a nap. It's been a hectic couple of days. And, you're right. It's very pretty here." He kissed her.

"You want me to pick anything up?" She asked as she grabbed her purse to leave.

"Some gravy. M if they have it, but I'll settle for N."


	23. Four Brothers In Law Named Bubba

Four Brothers-in-law Named Bubba

It seemed that he had just closed his eyes when Allison came in to wake him. "What time is it?" He asked.

"Nearly five." She answered, sitting next to him on the bed, "Are you very tired?"

He shook his head to clear it. "I didn't think that I was, but I guess I was wrong. Must be this mountain air."

"We'll try to cut out early tonight. Meemaw will understand." She touched his face.

"I'm fine. Do I need to change?" He was wearing jeans, a Rolling Stones T-shirt and a blue button-down shirt.

"Nope, you look fine. Better than fine." She stood up. "Okay, let's do this!"

They weren't very far away, although if anyone had to be given directions to the place they would have been, _Call me from the filling station on the main road and I'll come get you_.

There were at least a dozen vehicles parked haphazardly on the gravel drive leading up to the front door. Allison's excitement had her on edge. How long had it been since they had all been together? A little white haired woman in a blue dress stood on the porch and called, "It's them!"

For nearly five minutes House stood back and watched as everyone hugged and kissed and exclaimed. Allison was swallowed up. It seemed that she was starved for their affection and they were only too willing to fill her up. Her cheeks were damp with tears. As they finally all made their way back into the house, she came over to him. He took out his hankie and gently dabbed at her face. "You've got something on you." He said.

"I just love them all so much." She explained.

"You don't have to say anything." He pocketed his hankie and took her hand, "So introduce me to the hoards."

When they got back in the house people had divided up into groups. Kids were in the living room reciting Bible verses for two elderly ladies in easy chairs. Presumably the sum of what they had learned in Vacation Bible School.

A boy of about seven said, "For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many."

A very small girl of about five lisped, "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

"And thou shalt have joy and gladness; and many shall rejoice at his birth." A boy about Simon's age said. "I did that one because it was short." He clarified.

Alana, who was holding one lady's hand said in a very sweet and clear voice, "Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God."

Simon took umbrage, "You're just showing off, you didn't even go to Vacation Bible School this year. You went to cheer camp." He mimicked one of her jumps.

"Go ahead; tell Cookie and Granny which one you did." She turned away to tell them sotto voce, "It doesn't even make sense."

Simon cleared his throat theatrically and in an overly enunciated baritone voice quoted, "And he left them, and went out of the city into Bethany; and he lodged there." Just as he expected he was met with blank expressions. "Think about it." He emphasized his point by raising his eyebrows.

There was silence in the room. Suddenly House got it and he had to stifle his laugh.

Simon looked at him, a warning in his eyes. House straightened up, "I'm not messing with you. You play dirty."

Allison smiled and led him into the kitchen, "What was that all about?"

"It's from The Simpsons." House explained, "But don't tell him where you got it. I really do fear him. He killed my donkey."

In the kitchen they were knocked out by the smells of cooking. A giant ham rested under an aluminum foil tent. A sideboard groaned under the weight of bowls filled with everything from ambrosia to zucchini. Sheets and sheets of biscuits stayed warm on the still hot stovetop.

House wandered into the family room, intrigued by the wall of photos. A very large color picture of three teenaged girls, presumably Abby, Amy and Annie dominated a corner by the fireplace. They wore blue and white cheerleader outfits and struck characteristic poses. There was a fourth person in the picture, someone much younger, about three-years old. She also had a cheerleader outfit on and she too, stood in a pose. Her left hand straight up in the air, firmly grasping a pom-pom. Her right hand akimbo on her waist. Her chubby legs, slightly apart, as though she could go down in the splits at any time. He got right up on top of it, to make sure that it was, in fact, what it appeared to be.

"Isn't she adorable there? She went to every one of the games. All the girls on the squad loved her." House peered down at Meemaw, who was pointing at a very young Allison.

"Yes m'am. But I think she's adorable all the time." He extended his hand to her, "I'm Greg."

"Oh, put that away," She playfully pushed his hand aside and swept him up in a hug. Her head came to the bottom of his chest. "You're family now. You just call me Meemaw."

He hugged back tentatively but got the impression that she wasn't going to let go until he squeezed her back hard. "It's very nice to meet you; I've heard so many wonderful things about you from Allison." He said, trying to remember how to speak nicely to people's grandmothers.

We're very glad to have you here with us. So are you taking good care of our girl?" She had looped her arm in his and persisted in patting his hand.

"Uh." He didn't know how to answer the question; he had the apprehension that there was no way to live up to the standards of this family. Unless Allison was on a pedestal, with rose petals under her feet and minions attending to her every need, that he was just a pretender.

"Of course you are. Anyone can see that. Look how happy she is. She'll make a beautiful bride." She lowered her voice, "Again. That first one, that was so sad. But that was a long time ago. Come over here and meet my friends." She steered him into the living room. "Cookie, this is Greg House, Allison's fiancé." She turned to House, "You just bend down and give her a little kiss."

House did as he was told. Cookie smiled at him and nodded.

Granny stood up and hugged him, just as Meemaw had. "It's so nice to meet you. Allison says that you are one of the smartest people she's ever met."

"Oh, now…" He stammered.

"Now Cookie and Granny and I were all at school together. Both high school and the normal school. We've known each other a good long time." The ladies all smiled. "Oh, but here's Allison. Hi baby, come give Meemaw some sugar."

Allison obediently kissed her grandmother and gave her a squeeze. Then she kissed her other grandmother. Then she kissed Cookie. "Mommy and Daddy are stuck in traffic; they're still about forty minutes away. Abby and I thought we could make tomato sandwiches, what do you think?"

"Of course Baby, there are plenty of biscuits and Cookie sliced up all kinds of tomatoes. Make a plate and offer them around, I'm sure some of those children are hungry." Allison skipped off to make herself useful.

"Now Greg, Allison tells us that you play the piano. I had Mr. Bryant over to tune our piano not too long ago; would you play us a few tunes after dinner?" She walked him back towards the kitchen, rightly surmising that he'd be more comfortable closer to Allison.

"Sure." He watched as Allison buttered warm biscuits. She looked so natural standing with her sisters in a little assembly line at the counter.

Allison continued spreading the butter as she spoke to House, "Greg, why don't you go out onto the back porch with the guys. There's a cooler of beer out there."

He came close to her to buss her cheek, "Thank God, I think I'm getting diabetes."

"Be nice." She said, gesturing with the knife.

The girls were on the lawn practicing different cheers. Each taking turns showing the others what they did at their school. Simon hung out close to Ben. House came out onto the porch though the creaking screen door. Ben reached down into the cooler for a can for him. "Bud okay Bubba?" He threw it to him.

"Perfect. Who's Bubba?" House sank down into a chair.

"We're all Bubba. I'm Bubba Ben. That's Bubba Scott, Bubba Dave. You can't cuss around him, he's a minister."

"You can cuss; I'll just have to pray extra hard for you Bubba Greg." He took a sip of beer from his can.

"I see my reputation has preceded me." He sat back and watched lightening bugs twinkle in the dusk.

_Ready, okay!_ Echoed from the yard and a large calico cat poked her head out from under one of the chairs at the distant end of the porch.

Scott nudged Simon, "Hey, there's your cousin Puddin'. Why don't you see if she's in the mood to say hey."

Simon smirked, "That cat's mean. You go pet her. I'm going to get a Coke." He got to his feet as his father caught his attention.

"Simon, no more pop. You can have water or milk."

"Aw! Everybody else gets to have one." Simon complained. Ben gave him a _look_. Simon complied, "Yes sir."

Abby came onto the porch with the tomato sandwiches. The men reached for them greedily. Dave took a bite and savored it. "Oh man, that is the best tomato I've ever eaten."

"You say that every year." Abby observed.

"They just keep getting better and better." He took another bite.

House usually eschewed vegetables, but he could actually smell the tomato. He didn't know that they had a smell. He bit into the sandwich and his taste buds were mugged with different flavors. The saltiness of the biscuit, the cream of the butter, the fresh tomato, it melted in his mouth. "Mmmm."

Scott laughed, "The Yankee gets it."

Dave slugged him, "I thought that we weren't going to bring that up."

"Oh, right. Sorry." He apologized. "So Greg, Allison tells us that you're a brilliant doctor."

House smiled, "It's a living. So what do you do?"

"As we said, Dave's a brilliant minister, Ben is a brilliant Sales Director and I'm a brilliant lawyer."

"Ah. I see that I'm in good company then." He finished his biscuit and wondered if it would be rude to lick his fingers. He turned to Dave, the father of the bride. "And the groom? What's he brilliant at?"

"Michael. He's a brilliant…seeker. He's still in school, but he's a nice kid and I'm sure he'll do well…at whatever he decides to do." Dave shrugged.

The crickets started to chirp and they heard a car door slam. "Well, they're here." Ben helped House to his feet, "Bubba let's get 'er done. It's time to meet the Colonel."


	24. Sweet Tea and Lemonade

Sweet Tea and Lemonade

There was a general hub-bub in the living room. Grandpa Charles and Grandma Alice stood in the middle of it, hugging and kissing everyone. House hung back and watched the frenzy. Ben stood at his elbow, "You should see Christmas."

"I'm moving to Norway." House said.

Ben chuckled, "I felt the same way at first. But you'll see; you'll get used to it. Have more beer." There was a short lull and he took an opportunity to squeeze in and shake hands.

"Where's the latest addition?" Charles asked, his eyes fixing on House.

Dave piped up, "Michael and Amanda are with his folks tonight, we'll see them for breakfast tomorrow."

"No, the other one. Allison?" He looked around for his youngest.

"Daddy?" She was crammed in a corner with some of the children. She gently pushed them aside and kissed her father on the cheek. "Come meet Greg."

House tried not to show fear as he noted the exits. He leaned on his cane and waited for Charles to make his way over.

Allison reverted to manners she had learned long ago, "Daddy, this is Greg House, my…" It was never really official, although the ring said otherwise, "fiancé. Greg, this is my father, Charles."

House took the man's hand and shook it strongly. His thin fingers dwarfed by the man's giant mitts. "Nice to meet you sir."

Charles eyed him warily, "So you're Allison's fiancé? And her boss?"

House opened his mouth to say something, when Allison cut him off, "Daddy, you must be starving. Let's go get a plate." She led him away and looked at House over her shoulder.

He sagged against the wood paneled wall. Scott stood next to him. "It's not over yet. Have you thought about how you're asking for her hand?"

"Excuse me?" House regarded his future brother in law.

"Oh, he expects all the old-fashioned stuff. You're going to have to ask him for his daughter's hand." Scott took the slightly crushed beer can out of House's hand. "You've got two options. Switch to sweet tea, or finish the case."

"Yipes." House said to himself.

Allison breezed by him, handing him a Chinet plate heaped up with a sampling of country cooking. Everyone had found someplace to sit and eat; House was on the back porch, the realm of the men. He moved the food around, not really eating anything.

Dave noticed, "Come on Bubba, you've got to eat something. Meemaw will get her feelings hurt if you don't pack away at least two helpings."

"What _is_ this?" House could identify the items as food, but it wasn't any kind of food he'd ever had before.

Scott laughed, "Oh, that there is what God eats in heaven. Only you've got the Yankee plate." Dave gave him a dirty look. "No disrespect. He's only got ham, mac and cheese, fried potatoes, a biscuit and some seven-layer-salad. She didn't give him any collards, okra, fried green tomatoes or hominy." He dug into his laden and somewhat soggy dish. "And he's going to have to go back if he wants potato salad, squash, corn or purple hulled peas." He took a mouthful, "Oh man, you've got to try the peas."

Ben smiled and chewed, "Oh, they can cook, can't they?"

Dave nodded and swallowed, "You're going to have to work out to stay thin once you join the family."

House shook his head, "Allison's not really into cooking."

The men all laughed. Ben explained, "Yeah, that's what I thought about Abby. When we first got married she would just throw something together for supper. We went out a lot. Then when she got pregnant, wham, three courses on the table every night at six. I think it's in their DNA or something." He crunched a forkful of okra.

"Pregnant?" House sat back in his chair.

The three looked at him. Scott spoke first, "You were planning on having a family, weren't you?"

"Allison loves children; she's always wanted a large family." Dave added.

"Guys, maybe she's changed her mind." Ben said, trying to help. "Bubba?"

Greg looked up, "We've never talked about it."

"She probably assumed that you wanted children. You do, don't you?" Dave asked.

"I never thought about it one way or the other. I've got nothing against them, except for that whole stickiness-thing." He let his mind wander to what their child might look like. "If we do, they better look and act like her." Suddenly his ham looked really tasty.

By the time dinner was over and cleaned up the kids had started to fall asleep and the old ladies sat in their house-shoes in their easy-chairs.

Charles and Alice sat on the front porch, exhausted after a long day of travel. House went out there to test the waters. He approached Alice first. "I think that in all the chaos that we never really met. I'm Greg." He held out his hand and she took it gently.

"I'm very glad to meet you. Allison speaks highly of you." She motioned for him to sit in the chair across from her.

House eased himself into the chair. "So I understand that you flew in from Germany."

Charles nodded, "Yes, we've been stationed there for three years."

"But you're retiring at the end of the year?" House's muscles shouted at him with fatigue.

Alice smiled, "Yes, it'll be good to come home."

"So will you settle here?"

"Yes, we have a home here and our family is close by." It was impossible not to hear the suggestion. "Where is your family?"

"Oh, I've lived in New Jersey my entire life." House said.

"I'm sorry," Alice said, unaware that she had just insulted him, or The Garden State.

He was too tired to edit his snarky tendencies, so he said nothing.

Allison poked her head out the screen door, "Hey, Abby and Ben are loading up, are you ready?"

"Yes." He turned to Alice and Charles, "We'll see you tomorrow?"

Charles nodded and stood to shake his hand, "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes sir; and we'll have a private conversation?" House said this like a question.

"I was hoping you'd say that. I look forward to it." He clapped him on the shoulder, "Y'all drive safe!" He called out to Ben.

Back at the 'Love Nest' Cameron washed her face in the bathroom. House was torn between soaking in the whirlpool (heart-shaped though it was) and conking out in his clothes. "Do you want me to fill the tub for you?"

"Arrgl." He said.

She came out drying her face. She stood in her usual night time attire of sleep shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair was still braided from earlier in the day. "Would you care to articulate that?"

"No." He said simply.

She handed him his new sleep pants and skull shirt, "Here, I washed these, go ahead."

He wiggled out of his clothes and into his pajamas. "Is there anything this cottage doesn't have?" He left his dirty clothes in a heap beside the bed.

"Nope. Self-contained. We'd never have to leave, unless we wanted to." She seemed to be speaking of something other than a long weekend. "She turned out the lights."

"My eye-lashes are tired." House said.

She slid into bed next to him and held his hand. "I know. It's been a long day. Was it horrible for you?"

"Oddly enough, no." His mind whirled with everything he wanted to say, "So what's the deal with kids?"

"My nieces and nephews?" She smiled in the dark, thinking about how she had been there when each of them was first born. Always the little helper when she was growing up.

"No, your sons and daughters." He closed his eyes, trying not to drift off.

"Oh. _Our_ children." She heard nothing from the other side of the bed, including breathing, "What did you think, that they'd spring from my forehead?"

"I was rather hoping…" He didn't finish.

She sighed from her side, "Do you want children?"

"I always thought that I might have them one day." House felt her fingers looped in his, her hands were cold.

"Uh-huh. When you with Stacy?"

There was a long silence, "No. When I was with Stacy…we never talked about it and I never thought about it. Weird."

"So you're not opposed to the idea then?" She scooted closer to him.

"No," He yawned, "So when were you thinking that you wanted to start raising this tribe?"

"Rearing. You raise cattle, you rear children. You're leaving it up to me?"

"You're the one being inconvenienced. It's only fair that you get to choose when." He shifted to take the pressure off of his leg. "But can I make one request?"

"What?" She had no idea what to expect.

"We stay in New Jersey." He said simply.

She laughed, "What brought that on?"

"Have you ever sat back and looked at all of this from a distance? Your family, great as they are, all live in each other's back pockets." He shuddered.

"Tell me about it. How would you like to be the baby in all of that? My sisters and the Bubbas all treat me like I'm one of their kids; their kids treat me like a sibling. My parents think I'm still three-years old. It's fun for about a day and a half. Let's just say that by tomorrow afternoon if I'm not sneaking beer behind the house that you'll need to keep me away from sharp objects. Trust me, New Jersey is plenty close." She paused, "We can still spend Christmas with them, right?"

"We'll work out the holidays. I have a family too, you know." He yawned again. "Let's go to sleep, we have more of the same tomorrow."

"G'night House." She said as she rolled over into her pillow.

"Call me Bubba."


	25. Daddy's Girl

Daddy's Girl

Light poured into the room. House rolled away from the window and hoped to get another six or seven hours of sleep. He heard water running in the bathroom and groaned. Soon Cameron emerged with a towel turban and her bathrobe. "Okay, it's all yours."

"Do I have to?" He moaned into the pillow.

"If it's any consolation we're having breakfast at Meemaw's." She sat on the edge of the bed and towel dried her hair.

"Not really." He said, slowly getting up. "How much sleep did we get?"

"Not enough. You can sleep in the car on the way to Cherokee though." She took out her make up bag and started putting on her face.

"Urgh." House complained as he limped into the bathroom.

"I appreciate you!" Cameron called in to him.

"Nuarg." He answered.

Abby and Allison were drinking coffee upstairs by the time he was ready. He stood at the foot of the stairs and glanced up at the main level. He rubbed his leg and started up the stairs. If it weren't for the coffee, he'd have stayed down there until they had sent a search party.

"Don't worry about me. I'm doing just fine with these stairs." He called up.

"Great!" She replied and turned back to Abby, "So we're taking off after breakfast?"

Abby sipped her coffee and nodded, "Yup. The four of us are going to the casino and Scott and Dave are taking the kids tubing. Alana is hanging out with the bridesmaids. I'm not sure what they're doing, but they're all doing it together."

Allison acknowledged House as he poured himself a cup. "So have you heard anything? Is she pregnant?"

"Nope. Still a virgin." She drained her cup. "Come on Greg, just bring it with you."

Allison and House stood at the SUV and waited for the rest of the family to join them. "You don't have to be pleasant to anyone. Just eat something and grunt politely."

When they got to Meemaw's, food was already spread out in the kitchen. House usually didn't eat breakfast, but he didn't think that was an option. Allison made him a biscuit and ham sandwich. He nodded his thanks and went onto the back porch with the Bubba's.

Scott and Dave wore cut-offs and flip-flops. Ben waded into a giant plate of biscuits smothered in white gravy with sausage ground on top of it. House drank his coffee and tried not to feel sick.

"Hey Bubba, how come you're not eating?" Scott asked as House stared into his coffee.

"I don't like to eat on an empty stomach."

"You don't know what you're missing." Scott said as he ate a spoon full of grits and eggs.

"I'm missing bagels and cream cheese." House replied petulantly. "You ever had matzo brie? How about a bialy?"

Ben chuckled, "Leave him alone. I don't think he's a morning person." He glanced at his watch, "We need to saddle up. I'm feeling lucky. You guys okay with the kids?"

Dave nodded, "Yup. We've got the cooler full of pop and snacks. We'll drive them through for some burgers before we head back."

"Come on Greg, let's grab the girls and get on down the hill." They went back into the house.

The kids were sitting at the dining room table. The older girls, the ones who were in the wedding party, were wearing summer skirts and T-shirts in preparation for a day of manicures, pedicures and sitting around talking about boys. The younger kids were in bathing suits and shorts, keyed up about tubing. Meemaw watched to make sure that each of them had eaten enough to satisfy her.

Simon turned to her after polishing off his third biscuit. "Meemaw, that was L gravy."

House chuckled and Alana huffed, "She doesn't get it."

"Sure I do. I'm glad you liked it Baby. Now, Ben, you drive carefully." She said as they made for the door.

"Will do, y'all need anything?"

"No Sir, I believe we have everything we need." She waved at them from the porch before heading back into the house.

House snoozed on the way into Cherokee, barely sensible of the conversation, which mostly centered on family members. He woke when Cameron nudged him "We're here."

They walked into the casino; it looked like any casino in Atlantic City or Las Vegas. Smoke hung in the air. The one thing missing was cocktail waitresses. "It's a dry county." Ben explained. House smacked his forehead.

After registering for their "player's cards," the men went to play blackjack and the women found some nickel slot machines.

Allison and Abby sat next to each other and played. Allison had picked a game involving a frog and a princess. Abby played a machine with a surfer dude. "You know, I feel like I'm being bad or something." Allison pressed the button and a fairy godmother appeared. "Hey did I win?"

Abby leaned over, "Yeah, you've got to pick three out of seven of those treasure chests."

Allison tapped the screen and realized that she had won. "Oh! Yea! So what did I just win?"

"About sixteen bucks. It's small stakes, but it's just as much fun." Abby's surfer dude just shouted '_Radical!_'

"So Greg and I talked about having a family." Allison said as she hit the button on her machine again.

"How'd that go?" Abby's eyes had glazed over as she hit another jackpot. "Hey, I just won another seven dollars."

"He seems okay with it. I don't know that I'm ready for kids just yet, but it's good to know that there's no opposition there." She clapped as she won another bonus. "Oh! I get to kiss four frogs!" She tapped the screen and even more points were added to her total. "You know, I'm not stupid, but it's hard to figure out how much I'm winning with this point total."

"That's the idea. If it's points, not money, then you won't freak if you lose a fortune." Abby too, won another bonus and had to pick different fast food for her value meal. "Oh crap, I think I just won some serious money." The two squealed with excitement as the total continued to climb. "This is the most fun!"

House saw that the dealer's up card was a four and decided to stand on seventeen. "So explain to me about who Granny and Cookie are. I'm confused." He asked as Ben collected on a blackjack.

"Cookie is somebody's maiden aunt. She's been Meemaw's friend forever. Granny is actually the Colonel's aunt. Abby and Ali's real grandmother passed about twenty years ago." He put some chips down as a new hand was dealt.

"Oh, you can't tell the players without a scorecard." House said, deciding to let his winnings ride. "So how seriously should I take this asking for Allison's hand thing?" He tapped his cards, indicating that he wanted to hit. He stayed at twenty.

"Oh, the Colonel is a serious guy. When I asked for permission to marry Abby I had to tell him about my finances and everything. Luckily, I had a good job and she was working too, so he didn't have anything to kick about. He might get personal though."

"So what's my strategy here?" House asked, sipping at his coke.

"Be honest I guess. What's the worst that could happen? He says no?" Ben stayed on his nineteen.

"That would be bad. Allison puts a lot of stock in him." The dealer turned over a ten, making Ben's twenty a push.

"But she'll still marry you." Ben said. "She married Bobby against her Daddy's wishes."

"Really? That surprises me." House placed another bet.

"It shouldn't. Allison is headstrong when she wants something. But you know that." Ben looked at his new cards and indicated that he wanted a hit. "Busted."

"I guess I do. Hit me." House drew a six, making twenty-one.

At around one, Abby and Allison found House and Ben. Abby put her chin on Ben's shoulder, "So how much?"

"I'm up about a hundred." He said, indicating his stack of chips, "What about you?"

"I won nearly three hundred." She said.

"Great, you're buying lunch." He twirled around in his chair and tossed the dealer a ten dollar chip.

"What about you?" Allison asked House.

"I did a bit better." He took his small stack of hundred dollar chips. "What about you?"

"I hit a jackpot." She said. "In nickel slots you never make a killing, but I won about four-hundred."

"Great, we've just paid for the trip."

After wandering around, they found the cashier and cashed out. The ate some lunch and headed back early.

House reclined on the bed while Allison fooled with the remote. She left it on an old movie. "So what did your dad have against your first husband?"

"Oh. Are you fretting about that?" Allison rubbed his arm.

"You have to admit, he's intimidating and I don't do well with conflict." He squeezed her fingers.

"Yeah. Right. Daddy didn't like that we were so young. He didn't like that we were both still in school and he especially didn't like that Bobby was dying. He wanted me to wait. I knew we didn't have the time, so we married anyway."

"But everyone showed up. You had a big wedding." House turned to face her.

"Yes. But it was obvious that he didn't approve. The Bubba's were great. That was a terrible time. Looking back on it, I can see why he didn't want me to do it. I'm glad I did, but no wedding should be that sad." She grew quiet.

"I'm sorry if I opened up old wounds." House stroked her hair.

"No. Have you ever done something, and you knew that it would end badly, but it was also the absolute right thing to do? If I had it to do over again, I'd do the same thing." She kissed him.

"What was that for?" He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

"For putting up with this nonsense. I can't wait to get home." She flopped over on her stomach and screamed into her pillow.

House laughed, "Tense much?"

"Ugh. Abby told me that I shouldn't tell you about winning. She said that I should put the money aside in an account, in case we didn't work out." She screamed again. Even muffled by the pillow it was shrill and loud.

"So? That's not bad advice." He stretched his arm and was rewarded with a nice 'pop'.

"Yes it is. First of all, I'm grown woman and a doctor. I have quite a decent savings account. Secondly, how sad is it that she thinks that four-hundred dollars is some kind of small fortune to me? I have shoes that cost that much. Not many pairs, actually only one pair, but you know, I'm not a child. Thank you." She kissed him again. "For treating me like a grown up."

"Gee, I'd come here more often, if only for the extra affection that I'm getting from you."

"I told you, I've got about 36-hours in me. Then I turn to drink. I'm ready to go home now."

"Lie down and have a nice nap. You'll feel better." He said as he yawned.

"I'll feel better when you and I are in our own bed and I can pet my cat." She rolled over and watched the movie until her eyelids closed.

House found the Colonel standing by the fireplace in the living room sipping Jack Daniels. He nodded at House, "Are you ready for that talk?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." House said, following him into the den.

The room was paneled in knotty-pine on three sides, with a flagstone fireplace on the far wall. House sat on a leather sofa while the Colonel sat in a wing chair. "So you want to marry Allison?"

"Yes sir, I do." House said. It didn't seem like a good idea to draw it out. Just get it all up front, deal with whatever he was going to dish out.

"You're quite a bit older than she is." He observed.

"That's true, but I don't think that she minds." House said, trying not to let his natural sarcasm creep in.

"Allison is comfortable with people her sisters' age." He conceded. "But don't you think that she'd be better off with a fellow closer to her age?"

"I'm as surprised as you are. She's had ample opportunity to decide, and oddly enough, she wants me. Who are we to question her judgment?" House wished that he had a cocktail.

The Colonel sighed, "Allison is my youngest and maybe I'm too protective of her. But she's been through a lot and she needs someone to look after her. While I love Allison, let's be honest, she doesn't have a lot of common sense. She's emotional and impulsive." He shook his head and sipped, "Are you sure that you'll do right by her? Are you willing to support her, no matter what?"

House pondered the Colonel's words, "Gosh, the way you describe her; I guess you're right. I don't want to marry her."

The Colonel gave him a puzzled look while he continued.

"The Allison I know is a bright, funny, strong woman. I'm lucky that she puts up with my bullshit, that's for sure, but I think that she's had a lot of practice putting up with yours. Now, I'm going to take care of her, just like she takes care of me. In our house, it's a two-way street." He stood, "I'm hoping that you'll welcome me to your family, but no matter what, starting now, I'll thank you not to speak of my future wife in those unflattering terms." He extended his hand.

The Colonel looked at House's hand and then up into his face. There was no mistaking the look, he wasn't kidding. He grasped his hand and shook. "I'm not sure if I like you or not, but I respect what you just said."

House left the Colonel in his den and went to find Allison. She was playing Spades in a make shift card room. "How close are we to leaving?" He asked.

"House? What did you say to Daddy?" She gave her hand to Alana to play for her and took him into one of the small bedrooms.

"We understand each other. I think he's good with it." House said, reaching for his pill bottle, but then remembering that he had better ways of dealing with stress, he sat on the bed and inhaled deeply.

"No. Really." She said. "I'm not mad."

"No, you're angry. Dogs are mad. People are angry." He corrected her.

"I'm not angry. It doesn't matter. So you pissed him off. It doesn't happen often, it's good for him." She sat next to him.

"I don't know if he's pissed off, exactly. But I think we understand each other. So go ahead, move forward with the white satin and orange-blossoms, or whatever it is you want to do. We have his blessing." House inhaled and held his breath and then slowly exhaled.

"Which is why you're nearly hyperventilating?" She rubbed his back. "I'm sorry he stressed you out. I'm sorry my family is so…"

"They are what they are. My family is crazy too. We'll live with it. As long as we have each other, I guess I can put up with anything." He kissed her. "So let's see if we can get Ben to drive us back to the Love Nest and we can prove it to each other."

"You read my mind." She responded.


	26. Wedding Bells

Wedding Bells

Buzzing. Chirping. Clanging.

House turned over and grumbled. He opened one eye warily and glanced around. Sunlight filtered through trees. Allison was long gone, probably the cause of the clanging upstairs. He sighed and tried to go back to sleep. It was no use.

He flopped over in the bed and turned on the television. After flipping through a few channels showing NASCAR, bass fishing and golf, he rested on an old, black and white movie.

Cameron came downstairs with a tray. It contained two mugs of coffee, a plate of toast and three donuts. "Good morning sleepyhead!" She called down to him.

"Morning," he managed to get out. He reached for the mug greedily and took a long gulp. "What time is it, and when do we have to be someplace?"

She set the tray down and smiled, "It's almost nine and we don't have to be anywhere until three this afternoon." She nestled against the pillows. "How divine."

"So I don't have to get dressed, or bounce around the countryside or speak pleasantly to an aged relative? I can be grumpy and smelly with you?" He bit into a donut. The sugar caused a spike in his insulin. "What is this? It's like there's a party in my mouth and everyone brought cake."

"Krispy Kreme. Is it great?" She eyed it hungrily, but continued to eat her more sensible toast.

"A bit sweet for my taste. I think it ate away at my palate." He took another sip of coffee.

"The treasures of the South are completely wasted on you." She sighed. She poured him some more coffee from the carafe on the tray.

"Oh well. I have other redeeming qualities." He settled back and watched the television. "What's all that buzzing out there?" He indicated the window.

"Buzzing?" Cameron had no idea what he was talking about.

House muted the sound. They listened for a moment.

Cameron giggled. "Cicadas. Katydids. Crickets. Bugs. We have them in New Jersey too." She smacked him playfully.

"Not that loud." He complained and turned the sound up.

"Is nature too noisy for you?" She asked, sliding back down into the bedding for a snooze.

"Too noisy, too quiet. I'm a suburban boy. Lawn mowers, motorcycles, those are proper weekend noises." He too decided to have a snooze.

They spent the day in lazy activities. They were dressed and ready to leave when Abby knocked on their door. "Okay guys, come on!" She called through the screen.

House struggled in a suit and tie, Allison wore a silk, floral chiffon dress. Short, with halter top and a ruched bodice. She played with the skirt like she was four-years old. Her high-heeled sandals clicked across the floor on her way out to the car.

Abby rolled her eyes, "Are you going to tap dance like you did when you were little?"

Allison giggled as she put a sweater on so that her outfit would be suitable for church, "I might. I don't know why, but I'm in such a good mood right now."

Alana leaned over from the back seat. "I like your dress. Where'd you get it? Can I borrow it?"

Allison thought for a moment, "Macy's I think and no, you have to get your own." She fluffed the skirt a bit and crossed her legs so she could rotate her foot. It was impossible not to notice her pedicure. Light gold polish accentuated with a black curlicue pattern.

"Cute!" Alana shrieked, "Mom…"

"You're a bad influence, Ali." Abby said, regarding her own French pedicure. "Is there a toe ring too?"

"As a matter of fact…" Allison crossed her legs again, showing her left foot, complete with a simple gold toe ring with a small diamond. She smiled serenely.

Alana cooed and exclaimed; Abby complained. House took small notice. He liked the girly stuff, although he wasn't one to make a fuss about it.

"You know Allison; you should enjoy this stuff while you can. Once you're married and taking care of a family, you won't have time for it." Abby sounded like someone who was startled to find that she had no idea what was hip or cool anymore.

"Okay. I will." She leaned over to adjust the ring imperceptibly, and to admire it again.

At the church they settled into a pew and waited for the ceremony to start. Alana joined the rest of the bridesmaids in the mindless activity of sitting around to wait while dressed to the nines. Simon had tried to pull out his Gameboy, but his mother had confiscated it so he slunk down into his seat and moped. "Sit up," Abby hissed at him.

Finally, after three minor crises, the wedding began. The pastor addressed the church and advised them that they were as much a participant in the marriage as the bride and the groom. He read a bit from Paul's letter to the Corinthians. He invoked the vows. He invited the couple to light a unity candle. Then it came time to exchange rings. He placed them in his hand, holding them aloft, between his fingers for the congregation to see. "These rings, like your love, were forged in fire. They have no beginning and no end." A small titter bobbed around the church. Three of the bridesmaids had trouble keeping their countenance. Ben's left hand reached over the pew towards House, who quickly slipped a five-dollar bill into the palm. Abby, who saw this out of the corner of her eye, fumed.

After the ceremony, while the wedding party posed for formal pictures, punch and finger sandwiches were served in the fellowship hall. House perched on a folding chair and waited for the signal to head over to the restaurant where the reception would take place. Allison sat next to him. "So what did you think?"

"I'm down a fin." He said.

"Smart money was on tradition." She said. "So how do you see our wedding?"

"Not that." He said simply, indicating the wedding bells hanging from crepe-paper streamers.

"No." She agreed, "I've already done that. I'm over it. So what then?"

"Well, you're an atheist…" He started.

"Shh." She shushed him.

"Right. To your family you're still a Methodist. Gotcha." He winked.

"What they don't know won't hurt them." She stated.

"We could just go down to City Hall, and have a judge do it." House wasn't into big ceremonies. He didn't even attend his own graduations after high school.

"That's an option. Or we could have a small ceremony on the beach, with dinner afterwards." She envisioned herself barefoot at sunset in a simple white dress.

"Do I have to decide now?" He grew petulant. "You know, I've never actually proposed to you. Maybe you'll want to wait on planning this shindig until we get that part out of the way."

She held up her left hand, "I've got a ring and your promise."

"You know, when a man proposes, it's a big deal. It's probably the most I'll ever organize in my whole life. Do you really want me to skip it? There might be another ring in it for you." He bribed.

Allison cocked her head to the side and considered, "I love the ring I have. I don't want a separate engagement ring. Isn't there a matching wedding band that goes with this? That'll be enough for me." She clicked her nails against the plastic top of the table and turned in the direction of the sanctuary. "How many different configurations of the wedding party are they going to take? I'm tired of sitting here." She looked specifically at some of the younger kids who were playing with disposable cameras. "Great, they'll spend $100 in developing blurry pictures of people's butts."

"You know, half of marriages end in divorce." He looked around the room.

She followed his gaze, "None of these have. Smart money's on us House."

"You seem to have an inside track." He smiled.

"Yup. I might be small, but I'm mighty." She stood, "Come on, you want to go outside for a minute and get away from all of this madness?"

"I've wanted that for the past three days." He said, rising to escort her out.

The party at the Mexican restaurant was only an hour late in getting started. The open bar served dulce de leche pina coladas while a deejay played typical wedding music. The photographer was getting casual groups together, arranged by relationship. Allison had posed for one of all the aunts. The Bubbas formed a trio, all smiling as they toasted with their beer glasses. Ben glanced over at House who regarded this with much amusement and a little horror. "Hey Greg, you need to be in this with us!" He called.

House thought about it for a minute. The three looked at him expectantly. There was no going back from this point. He would be officially in the family. It didn't start with Allison accepting him, or with her father's permission, it started with a goofy picture of uncles. It was impossible not to flashback on Tod Browning's Freaks. _One of us, one of us, one of us_, ran through is brain. "Come on, my beer's getting warm." Scott moaned.

House was resigned, "Gabba, gabba hey." He said quietly as he got to his feet. He moved into the picture and as the flash blinded him he realized that he had just gained three brothers. Three redneck brothers.

The next morning they were all packed up for the trip home. Alana and Simon sat in the far back seat and watched a movie quietly, too tired from all the activity of the previous few days to even snipe at each other.

House and Allison sat in the middle seat, alternately napping and listening to the eighties station that Ben had tuned in on the satellite. Abby flipped through a magazine and stared out the window.

It seemed to take half as long to get back to Atlanta. It had been agreed that rather than going all the way back to the airport that Ben would drop them off at the Brookhaven station so that they could take the subway. "Are you sure you'll be okay on the train?" He asked as they pulled up to the curb.

"We'll be fine. We live in the northeast; we take trains all over the place." Allison assured him.

"Just get on a southbound train. They all end up at the airport." He said as he helped them with the suitcases. "You going to be okay with this?"

"I'm _fine_. Stop worrying. It has wheels and Greg can sling this bag over his shoulder." She handed House duffel.

"Okay." He hugged Greg, "It was great meeting you Bubba. I guess we'll see you for the holidays." He hugged and kissed Allison. "You take care of yourself Sissy."

"I will Bubba." She said. She hugged and kissed her sister, her niece and nephew.

They got on a nearly empty train and piled the luggage on the seat that faced them. "If it gets crowded we can move that." Allison said.

House nodded. "So, are you sad about leaving them?"

"No. It was nice to visit with everyone, but I'm glad to be going home. I miss the boys. How relieved are you?" She asked.

"It wasn't that bad." He admitted.

"Good." She nestled into the crook of his arm.

It was nearly midnight by the time they got home. Allison dropped the suitcases at the front door and went looking for Roman. "Kitty-kitty!" She called.

"Allison!" House yelled from the den. She joined him as he pointed to the cat, who was sound asleep with all four paws up in the air.

She bent down to pick him up. "Poor baby."

"Poor baby? He's sound asleep. Probably dreaming of mice and birds and unlimited Tender Vittles." He sat down in his chair and sighed. "It's good to be home."

"Are you hungry? Do you want anything?" She asked cuddling the groggy cat.

"No. I've got everything I need." He smiled. "Wait. Give him to me." He held out his arms for Roman.

Allison, puzzled, handed him over.

House arranged him in his lap. He stroked Roman slowly until he heard him purr. "Perfect. Now it's perfect."


	27. Chapter 27

Member of the Family

House rolled over in bed and groaned. It was _the knock_. Two slow followed by three fast. Over the years _the knock_ had changed, most of the people who knew to come to him in the dead of night had forgotten the exact rhythm, but whatever it was, he knew that it was trouble.

Cameron stirred quietly as House got up and headed towards the door. "Where are you going?" She asked sleepily. It was nearly two in the morning.

"There's someone at the door. Some old friends of…" He almost said _ours_. "Mine. Stay here." He instructed her.

She rolled over and closed your eyes. "K." She was exhausted.

He padded down the hall towards the door. He opened it quickly, looking both ways as he motioned the two men into the house. "Were you followed?" He asked, ushering them into the kitchen.

The first man, Petey, was older, with jet black hair, obviously dyed. He wore a beige suit with brown spectator wing-tips. A second, much younger, man of about twenty, was with him. He wore black slacks and a white shirt, stained with blood.

"Naw." Petey said, as he held up a very pale looking young man. "Didn't even speed on the way over. But we parked at the corner, like you like." He helped the kid into a chair at the dinette. Petey walked over to the fridge and peered in. "You got anything to drink? It's been a long night."

"Heineken. Help yourself." House ran the hot water while he went into the hall for his bag. He returned with a black, leather shaving kit and opened it up. "So what do we have? Gunshot?"

The kid nodded as House continued to wash with Betedine. He pulled on some latex gloves and rolled up a blood soaked sleeve. Petey sat down at the dinette and watched. "It grazed him I think."

"Good, one less piece of evidence that I need to get rid of. If you get pinched, and they ask you where you got patched up, you leave me out of it," he admonished.

Petey gave House a disgusted look. "Greggie…" He started.

House winced. "Didn't you get Georgie's nephew to be the team doctor? Why come to me?" He injected Xylocaine into the wound and then into the muscle before trying to debride it.

"That punk? First of all, he's still wet behind the ears; secondly, I don't trust him. He talks, and that wife of his is a real pill." Petey took a pull from the bottle. "Kid, I'll take you for some eggs when we get done here." He said, hoping to boost his spirits. "You wanna come?" He asked House.

House sighed, "No. You know I want out" he said simply, knowing in the back of his mind that there was no 'out'. He pinched the skin together to see if he could get by with suture strips; he decided to use stitches because they would leave a cool-looking scar.

Petey nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry. But you're close and I've been doing business with you for twenty years." As if that would soothe him.

Fifteen stitches later and he was patched up and ready to travel. House pulled a prescription pad out of the kit and wrote on it. "Here's a 'scrip for some pain killers and an antibiotic. Take all of the antibiotic. Don't sell the pain killers." He reached into the cabinet and pulled down his bottle. He handed two tablets to the injured man and the paper to Petey. "You might want to get a tetanus shot. Tell the doc you scraped it on a nail in your garage or something. Tell him the emergency room ran out." He held out the paper to Petey. He turned to the kid, "Take those, you can have one every four to six hours until you run out."

Petey tried to decipher the writing and saw the information at the top of the pad, "Who's Lisa Cuddy?"

"Not _me_. I don't want any of this shit coming back to me." House said simply.

Petey stood and tried to put a wad of bills in House's hand. House waved him away. "Don't be like that. You're getting married. Buy your girl something nice. So when are you bringing her around? Your Aunt Arlene would love to meet her. Maybe throw her a shower."

Petey pressed and House nodded. "Soon Uncle Pete, soon." He put the crumpled bills on the counter.

Petey hugged and kissed him. "See that you do."

Just then Cameron came into the kitchen in her robe. "Hi. What's all this?"

House moved to close the shaving kit. "Nothing." He motioned towards the kid but realized that he didn't know his name. He gave Petey a helpless stare.

Petey smiled and embraced Allison. "I'm your Uncle Pete and this is Donnie, a friend of mine. He scraped his arm on a nail in the garage and we didn't want to wait around the emergency room for hours, so we came here. Greggie took care of it."

"Oh," she yawned, "Do you want some coffee?" She asked as she hugged back.

"No, we were just leaving. We'll grab something at a diner somewhere. Sorry to wake you up. Greggie, I'll call. We'll barbecue." He bundled up the kid and went out the door as quickly as he came in.

House reached for the bleach cleaner to tidy up. Roman wandered in from the living room to see what the commotion was. Cameron blinked in the bright lights. "So that was your uncle?"

House put the used paper towels in a plastic bag. "Yup. That was him."

"He seems nice." She said, putting her hand in the pocket of her robe. "Are we really going to barbecue with him?"

"Probably." House began washing his hands again, scrubbing roughly between his fingers.

As her eyes adjusted she noticed the money on the counter. "What's this?" She smoothed it out with her small hands.

"A present. Go out and buy yourself something pretty with it." He used a brush under his nails and then threw it away.

"Greg, there's five-hundred dollars here." Now she was starting to wake up.

"Yeah, Petey is generous." He yawned.

"We can't take it." She said simply.

"We can't _not_ take it." He said. "Come on, I'm tired, let's go back to bed."

The invitation came a few days later. Allison got home early and found the message on their answering machine. "Hi Greggie and Allison! This is Aunty Arlene! Hello? Anyway, call me." Allison copied the number down on the pad by the phone.

By the time House got home spaghetti sauce was bubbling on the stove and a salad waited to be dressed on the dinette in the kitchen. Allison was on the computer, paying bills. He picked up the message, "What's this?"

Allison shrugged, "call your aunt," she said, manipulating the finance program from her bank.

House put it down and sat on an over-stuffed chair. Roman waddled over and sniffed at his shoes, too lazy to jump up to his lap. House picked him up and scratched behind his ears.

Allison finished up and closed the lid on her laptop. She handed House the message and the phone. "Go on."

"Are you sure you want to?" He glanced at the number, "I mean, they're all the way in Passaic."

"Yes. You met my family, now I want to meet yours."

He heaved a sigh. "Okay, but it's nothing like your family."

"I didn't expect it to be. I'm sure they're great." She addressed Roman, "Come on kitty, crunchy time."

Roman was torn for a moment between a warm, welcoming lap and his dinner. Dinner won and he followed her into the kitchen.

House got on the phone and dialed the familiar number.

"Yellow!" Arlene answered as she tried to deal with the typical dinnertime noise and confusion, "hang on a minute. I'm on the phone!" She shrieked at the cause of the din in the background. It abated somewhat.

"Hi Aunt Arlene." House involuntarily rolled his eyes.

"Greggie! Pete said he saw you the other night. How are you?" There was a muffled sound with the receiver and some echo, "I'm in the bathroom, I swear those kids are going to drive me crazy." There was the click of a lighter and the sound of a deep inhale.

"We're good. Allison said that you left a message." He prompted; Arlene could keep him on the line for a good hour if he let her.

"Yeah. Why doncha come over for Sunday dinner? We'd love to meet Allison and Denise is coming with her kids. It's been too long." She puffed on her cigarette again.

House consulted his watch, two minutes before the guilt-trip, a new record. "Okay. Sunday. Around 1:00? What can we bring?"

"Can she cook?" Arlene asked incredulously, "Never mind, just bring yourselves."

"Okay, we'll see you then." He hung up and was consumed with dread.

"So?" Allison asked, holding a wooden spoon.

"Sunday dinner." He said.

"Great. What do I wear?"

Sunday dawned overcast and rainy. It matched House's mood. He sat in his sweats and Pink Floyd T-shirt flipping through the channels. He let it rest on VH1. Allison ran around dressing with hot rollers in her hair. "Aren't you going to shower?" She asked.

House looked around, confused by the question. "Yes. When we're ready to leave."

"It's nearly eleven. We need to leave in a half-hour or so to get there in time." She waved a large envelope at her head, to cool down from the heat of the rollers.

"Don't worry, One, closer to two, it doesn't matter." He refused to budge.

Allison snagged the remote and turned off the TV. "Go on, we're going to be on time." She gave him a look that would freeze water.

He grumbled all the way to the bedroom.

They arrived at 12:55, bearing a basket of wine. Arlene answered the door with the phone on her ear, "they just got here," she said as she kissed House and Allison, "let me sit with my company for a minute." There was a beat, "so get here when you get here. Oh, and bring me some butter, I'm nearly out." She turned her attention to Greg and Allison. "Oh! She's beautiful, come on in, get out of the wet!" She ushered them into a seldom used sitting room. It sounded like four kinds of hell were going on in other regions of the house, but the pristine, white and gold toned living room was peaceful.

An old Bassett hound had flopped on the floor and snored loudly while Arlene chatted with her guests. "Greggie, it's been too long. We've missed you. Denise is coming with her kids. They're all so grown up now. Do you mind if I smoke?" She asked as she lit a Pall Mall. "Pete! Stay out of the gravy!" She screamed in the direction of the kitchen. "He's always in the damn gravy." She commented. "So Allison, how'd you and Greggie meet?"

"We work together." Allison said softly, a bit intimidated by the noise.

House leaned over the bronze and glass coffee-table, and attempted to loosen a yellow, cellophane wrapped candy from the dish. He pulled out a sticky mass. "Arlene, has this been here since the Carter Administration?" He asked with a smile.

Arlene laughed, "Put that back. When you find me some that match, I'll replace them. So Allison, let me see your ring."

Allison extended her hand and Arlene screamed, "Oh! That is be-you-ti-ful, Greggie; you know Pete has a friend…" She started.

"It was an impulse purchase in Spain." House offered by way of an explanation.

"MA!" A voice called from the back of the house. Barking of a small dog punctuated the cacophony.

Arlene rose, "Allison, keep me company in the kitchen, I think they're going to kill each other in there. Greggie, go help Pete, he's cleaning the calamari."

House wandered to the covered patio, where men were standing around as Pete was elbow deep in something that looked and smelled incredibly unpleasant.

Arlene was a thin woman with dark, short hair that stuck up at odd angles all over her head. She wore light colored jeans with a peacock pattern embroidered on them. A silk top, gold loafers and a gold belt completed her outfit. A thick gold rope hung around her neck with a large turquoise jewel pendant hanging from it. She gave a massive pot of marinara a stir as she pointed to a small yorkie yapping insanely. "Pick him up." She instructed.

Allison picked up the small dog and it licked her face. She laughed, "What's your name?" She asked the dog. It barked in response.

Arlene laughed, "He thinks he's people. His name is Tipi. I've always had a dog named Tipi." She explained.

"Hi Tipi." Allison said as she watched Arlene stir the sauce. "So what do you put in your sauce?" It smelled really good.

"Here. Taste." She dipped a piece of one of the loaves of crusty Italian bread that were piled on the counter. "Where most people go wrong is in putting too many different ingredients in."

"Delicious." Allison agreed.

"Good Italian tomatoes, crushed, puree. Fresh garlic, olive oil, onion, basil. You know, the regular stuff." She reached over and splashed some red wine into the pot. "That never hurts either."

"What about peppers?" Allison asked.

Arlene shook her head, "I like them in some things, but I put them on the side, never in the gravy." She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Allison. "Salud".

Allison toasted back and sipped the wine out of the tumbler. "Mmm. That's good."

"Pete brought home a case. It's nice." She agreed. Arlene opened the oven to check on foil covered casseroles. "We'll eat when Denise gets here."

A tall, muscle-bound man came into the room, carrying a boy of about four. "MA! Can you keep him out of my stuff? He stinks like a…" He looked over at Allison and smiled, "He stinks. He's got my cologne all over him." He extended his hand, "I'm John."

Allison took it and found his handshake strong without crushing her. "Allison," she said, introducing herself, "nice to meet…"

"He's your son Johnny." Arlene complained, "But that _is_ strong. Come here." She took the boy by the hand and opened the arcadia door leading onto the back patio. "Pete! Come take JJ." She left him out there to watch his grandpa eviscerate squid.

"John, hurry up. Put on a shirt, Denise will be here any minute." He hulked back towards his room in the back of the house. "He just got back from the gym. I swear, all those muscles and for what?"

Allison raised an eyebrow in agreement and said nothing.

The sound of slamming doors could be heard in the driveway. "They're here!" Arlene wiped her hands on a dish towel and hustled to the front door. "Oh! My babies!" She exclaimed.

Allison peered around the corner and saw a flurry of activity punctuated by small children, shopping bags and large, plastic toys. She felt trapped. She didn't know anyone and she didn't know what she was expected to do.

"Hi! I'm Denise!" A large-ish, dark haired woman embraced her. "So you're the one who landed Greg?"

Allison smiled weakly. "Yes." Is there a _good_ way to answer that question?

"Welcome to the family. We're all crazy, but kind-hearted." She dropped a pile of shopping bags on the kitchen table. "Ma, you need any help?"

"No, I figure we'll eat in a few minutes. Now that you're here. Go say 'hi' to Daddy." Arlene started to dish things up nodding towards the door.

Denise and Allison went onto the patio. An old, avocado-colored fridge stood next to a table where Pete was dredging squid to be fried in a propane fueled fryer. "Denise!" He cried, presenting his cheek towards her to kiss. "You look beautiful!"

"Thanks Daddy." She walked to the fridge and got out a can of Fresca. "Allison, you want a Fresca, or a Diet Coke?" She offered.

"Fresca? I haven't had that in years." Allison held out her hand for the cold can.

Pete laughed, "We'll never run out of Fresca in this house."

Allison popped the top on the can and took a sip. "Oh. That's _exactly_ like it was twenty years ago."

House sat in a patio chair and smiled benevolently. The malodorous JJ was teasing Tipi, who barked happily. Pete watched as the squid bobbed and snapped as it fried to a crisp golden brown.

Pete admired his handiwork, a plate full of rings and tentacles, all ready for the table. "The trick, Greggie, is to threaten it. Just a minute or so, that's all you need. Otherwise it gets all tough.

Arlene stuck her head out, "Okay! Bring it in!"

Everyone formed a procession to the dining room. A large stone and glass table, with black upholstered chairs dominated what could have been a boardroom. The table nearly buckled under the weight of the dishes. Five of the chairs were augmented with booster seats or replaced with high chairs as various children took their places between their parents or likewise responsible adults.

There was a moment of quiet before everyone began filling their plates. Pete stood up and held his full glass aloft, "To my family."

Everyone else lifted a glass and toasted in agreement. "Salud," bubbled around the table.

Arlene smiled at the vast number of dishes, "Dig in! It's getting cold."

Greg began piling his plate. He noticed that Allison seemed frozen, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what any of this is." She said, "Where do I start?"

Pete smiled and passed her the platter of squid. "Ali, can I call you Ali? Take some of the rings. Squeeze some lemon and dip them in the marinara."

House piled a few on her plate, then he reached for the antipasto, and gave her some olives, artichokes, fresh mozzarella and roasted peppers. "Start with that."

Allison looked at her plate, "_Start_?"

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of food, screaming and kids bouncing off of walls.

Only as it grew late, and all the kids had passed out in puddles of sugar-sticky drool, were they on their way back home. Allison balanced a bag of containers on her lap. "So they think this will just be another meal? We can live off of this for a week." She paused for a minute as House increased the speed of the wipers in the rain. "So your Dad is Italian?" She tried to make it fit.

"No. Aunt Arlene is my Dad's sister. Her husband is Italian." He explained.

Allison grew confused, "But she seems so…"

"Carmella Soprano?" He guessed.

"Well, perhaps not quite Carmella." She admitted, "What does Uncle Petey do anyway?"

"He works for an auto parts company." He waited to see if she would buy it.

"Really." It was said with all the skepticism she could muster.

"That's his story. He's worked there for years." He pulled off at their exit and the rain subsided some as he decreased his speed and drove down the street towards home.

"So when Arlene invited me to come with her to a special sale, it's okay for me to go?" Allison smiled in the darkness. She could almost hear the gears in his head moving.

"She invited you to go?" He asked.

"Yup. Denise, Arlene and I. We're going to lunch after. So it's okay. Right?" She shifted in the seat and the bag rustled. Thankfully, nothing leaked.

"Bring cash." House said as he pulled into the driveway. "And let her drive."


End file.
